


Beyond the Walls

by WhyMrSpook



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Calm Down Erik, Charles Being Concerned, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Genosha, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, Protective Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:45:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyMrSpook/pseuds/WhyMrSpook
Summary: “You must make an effort not to distract my Head of the Royal Guard, Doctor. He seems quite taken with you.”“I am not monopolising your time for the sake of finding a husband, your Majesty. I’m sure Lord Lehnsherr is more dedicated to the cause and your good self than finding a husband too.” It is rumoured in the City that visitors beyond the Castle walls never emerge again. So far, Raven has yet to emerge. Charles makes a calculated decision to head into the Castle to retrieve his sister, not expecting to stay or survive longer than a day. Inside the Castle, he navigates the attention of the Great King Shaw, the King's guard - Lord Lehnsherr -  and his own execution worthy knowledge of the Rebellion heading in from the East.





	1. The Onset of Spring

“Once you step beyond those walls, you won’t come out again.” Moira said, softly; her voice betrayed her nerves just as strongly as her increasingly pale face. She was scared for him. Or, at least, scared for herself and how she might survive without him. As much as he feared for her also, she wasn’t his main priority. But she was his friend, and he wasn’t about to leave her defenceless.

“I will, Moira.” Charles said, solemnly, doing his best to convince her of that lie. He couldn’t really know for certain that he’d ever see his friend again. “Until then, head north. There’s a village by the river called Lockslough. Find the ice traders and ask for Robert. He’ll look after you-“ He’d worked with the ice traders before- they mostly dealt with the rich and foreign, but Robert was an old acquaintance and had sourced some ice for him when illness had half the city burning up in fever. That didn’t mean Robert would go out of his way for Charles; he’d help Moira, but only if she made it to him soon. “-it’s imperative you make it to him before the river melts. He’ll be gone by spring.”

Spring was not so far away. The mornings were just as piercingly cold, but lighter earlier now. Charles knew time was not on their side. It never had been, though, and so the prospect of spring was not quite as daunting. He loved the blossoming trees and bright blue skies, even if it signified another month without his sister.

Raven was beyond the walls. She’d gone in the Autumn- traded her life, given her service to the King, in exchange for the crimes of their father. In doing so, she had protected Charles and allowed their most noble house of Xavier to retain its credentials and wealth. It hadn’t been worth it; her life was not worth their reputation. He’d sooner have fled the kingdom and kept Raven safe than stayed without her. For months he’d stayed close to the Castle Walls, watching, waiting for her to re-emerge, as promised. He’d turned patients away; had parents carry their children a mile to see him. He’d done unforgivably selfish things just to watch the castle gates. She had never appeared. She was his baby sister. It was his duty to go after her, to get answers, even if he hadn’t been able to protect her.

“Charles, you promised Raven you wouldn’t follow. You don’t know what happens in the castle, it’s dangerous!”

“I can handle myself, Moira.” He was lying still. He had no entire the reality of life beyond the walls, in the castle. He knew, perhaps better than most given his status, that they made the laws there, trained the armies and stored grain and money. It was true that most never truly left the castle. The armies did, when called for battle, but they always returned. Charles had heard only of a few cases where people had abandoned their posts, but the punishment for that was death. Quite frankly, no-one had ever survived to see punishment. Traitors were not looked kindly upon within the kingdom. The murder of traitors was the one excusable crime on record. In fact, the murder of traitors was rewarded more often than not.

Other than the armies, not many people actually left the castle walls. Taxes were collected by accountants in the city and handed over at the castle gates. The court in town was used to deal with crimes. Really, there was no reason for the castle to exist at all. Only it was home to the Great King Shaw and his young wife, Queen Emma.

“I know you can handle yourself, Charles.” Moira replied, irritably. Of course she knew, she’d seen him take over the entirety of his father’s estate and household whilst navigating debt, due taxes and old enemies. Yet she still didn’t seem convinced he could survive the castle. “That doesn’t mean you can handle the nobility, let alone whoever has Raven. Just wait- you know there’s a rebellion coming. If you joined that, your chances of success would rise significantly.”

“You said that in November.” He replied dryly, pulling his finest coat on. It wasn’t a long trek, but he wanted to look prepared when he stepped through those towering gates. “I’m not waiting any longer, Moira. Go to Lockslough and find Robert. If the rebel army passes through, let them know I’m not a threat if you don’t mind. Until then, I’m going into that castle.”

“What do you expect to happen, Charles? You think they’ll just give her back for nothing.”

“They need me. There’s no-one else in the city with the training to protect the town. Worst case scenario, they lock me up until there’s another outbreak of plague and then they’ll send me out to die with everyone else.”

“No Charles, the worst case scenario is they lock you up forever and let the plague kill us all without sending you to help us.”

He looked up at Moira with wide-eyes, shock washing over him. “You sound like Raven.” Uttering his sister’s very name sent a pang of hurt to his heart. He missed his sister like nothing else- he couldn’t sleep at night for memories of her as an infant, a little girl, a stubborn teenager. “I’ll get out, Moira. I’m not discussing this anymore. Start walking, now. If you miss Robert, you’ll die.”

“Fine.” She folded her arms angrily for a moment, before unfolding them and throwing herself at him in a hug. “Be careful. Charles. You’re respected, but not invincible. Don’t get cocky.”

“You always say that.” He retorted, with a smile. “Go on, I’ll see you again Moira.”

She still looked at him like she was never going to see him again, with big brown eyes that he’d grown up with. Him, Moira and Raven. Finally, all separated, for better or worse. Regardless, this was the only option. Moira would be safe with the ice traders and he would be safe in the castle, finding Raven safe too hopefully. It wasn’t the best scenario, by any means, but he had confidence in his own abilities. He could navigate the politics of the castle; he’d spent the last five months dedicating his reading to it.

“Bye, Charles.” With that, she collected her bag and left the house. Suddenly, the manor was empty. To save money he’d let all his man-servants and household go, living in only one room of the manor with a fire and a bed. It wasn’t the decadence he’d been brought up in, but he was no fool. He knew how the other half lived- he had treated families living in conditions far worse than his currently. He would be a selfish man indeed to complain.

With Moira gone, the real work began. He packed light, only a book for the Journey and a gift for what he hoped would be gracious hosts. He didn’t intend on staying longer than a day or two, and if he stayed any longer than that it would most likely be in a prison cell; clean clothes wouldn’t be likely anyway.

He left all his supplies out in the hall also. If illness struck, the people of the city could come and collect their usual remedies. He trusted them to be rational and kind and not take more than their fair share of supplies until he returned. He hadn’t told them he was leaving; not to incite panic, but he knew if he tried to tell them they would convince him to remain behind. Perhaps it was selfish to value his sister above the entire city, but that was a fatal character flaw he could have and still sleep at night with. His sister was all he had in the world, with no disrespect meant to Moira. She was his only family and his everything.

Finished, he pulled his satchel on and stepped out of the manor without looking back. He had a mission in life, now, and if he thought too hard about it he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to force himself to keep walking.

The journey to the castle gates was faster than any trip he’d ever made into the depths of the city; especially when it had been a matter of life and death. He’d once begged his father to move further into the city, to make the travelling less time-consuming. Then, when his father had died and left them in such a mess, he’d not had the time or money to move, let alone the desire to leave their childhood home.

“Good Afternoon, Sir. May I enquire as to your reason for visiting the castle?” A guard asked when he reached the gates, his accent vaguely rhythmic and tonal. He certainly wasn’t from this kingdom.

“Afternoon. I am Charles Xavier, the City Doctor. I would like to address the King.”

“Certainly, Sir. The King is in session until dinner, I’m sure he’ll see you. The winds are certainly blowing the right direction.” The guard grinned cheerfully, completely displacing everything that Charles thought he knew about the castle. Unless, of course, he was simply being sarcastic and sending Charles to his death. He gestured to another guard who strode over quickly.

“Sean?”

“This is the City Doctor, Sir Charles Xavier. He’s requesting an audience with the King. Escort him to the throne room, please.”

“Yes, Sir. This way, Sir.” The younger guard said, gesturing towards the castle door. Charles took a step forward, determination filling his veins. Then the castle gates shut behind him, casting shade onto the area around him. It was almost symbolic in the inevitable doom of his journey, he thought miserably. He kept walking, regardless, until he made it inside the castle.

It wasn’t as majestic in the thin passages and halls as it was made out to be; the walls were cold grey stone and the windows were narrow, for shooting out of only. If he died in this castle, it would be a very sorry way to go, he thought. He internally scolded himself for his pessimism, straightening his coat and mentally preparing himself to address the king. The Great King Shaw – The formidable King Shaw. The man who cowered in his tower, let his people die, whilst he sent out men to attack the other kingdoms. He waged wars and seemed always victorious; though Charles was learned enough to recognise the effects of propaganda. Their nation wasn’t strong; it just gave the appearance of being so.

The guard halted him a short way from a door and then continued, addressing his peer in hushed tones. The other guard looked at him and then entered through the doors, careful not to open them wide enough for Charles to see inside. He returned within a minute, holding the doors open for them both to walk through. There was truly no going back now, Charles thought resignedly. The king was the difference between seeing his sister again or a miserable, lonely death. With his heart pounding against his ribs, he stepped inside the throne room.


	2. Beyond the Walls

The Throne Room was exactly like the rumours of the castle. It was all gold and grand, with intricate carvings on each and every surface depicting Shaw, in all his god-like glory. On each side of the small hall were long tables and benches, with only a few nobility attending today, picking absently at food as they waited to hear the nonexistent quarrels to be presented to the King. They all stared at Charles as he approached the King, keeping his gaze low and submissive.

“Sir Charles Xavier, Doctor of the City.” The guard announced him, and he bowed, finally daring himself to look to the King.

Shaw was past his prime, but not yet on his deathbed. He looked vicious; his face was marked by frowning and war. He wore fine robes all woven with gold and sat at the centre of the table, looking down on his nobles. It was fitting to his entire rule, really. Shaw wasn’t known for his compassion, but he was certainly known for decadence and selfishness.

To his left, there was an empty throne for Queen Emma. To his right, slightly behind him, stood a man as cold as the King himself. He was certainly a Lord, given his fine clothing and sword, but he was dressed in a simpler fashion. He looked familiar, somehow, and Charles wondered idly if he’d been one of the army who had rode out to war on the road through the city. The man met Charles’ eyes for a brief second, practically radiating defensive mistrust, and then he looked away, eyes cold.

“What brings you to the castle, Doctor? It was my understanding that you had only recently balanced your books once again, I hadn’t expected a visit so soon.” Shaw said, not snidely, but certainly not innocently. He looked to his advisors for unnecessary confirmation, his expression bland and testing. “Is it politics, Sir, or is this visit of a more personal nature?”

 _I wasn’t aware there was a difference._ Charles forced a smile.

“I come to enquire for the welfare of my sister, Raven.”

The man behind the King stepped forward abruptly and whispered in the Shaw’s ear hurriedly, most likely to explain who and where his Sister was, before stepping back at the wave of Shaw’s hand.

“You miss her, no doubt, want to see her again?”

“She is my only family, My King.” Charles said sincerely, beseeching the ruler of their kingdom. He wasn’t sure if it was a worthy tactic, but it was his first attempt. “And a great aid to me in my work within the city.” She was when under pressure, at least. Most of the time, she found the profession dull and slow. When it came down to it, she did anything she could to help the people.

“I sympathise, of course.” The king said, sighing heavily- almost theatrically. “I would like to discuss this further with you, Doctor. I’m afraid my schedule is unforgiving today. You will stay with us, tonight, and recover from your journey.”

“Your kindness is boundless, your majesty.” Charles bowed lightly.

The king didn’t acknowledge his statement, gesturing loosely to the man behind him. “Lord Lehnsherr is my Senior Marshal and Head of the Royal Guard. He will assign you a guard during your stay, purely for your own protection, you understand.” There was something about his putrid smile that made Charles trust him even less than he had done before entering the Castle. He’d expected the King to be callous and cold, but these false niceties had caught him off guard.

“While you are engaged, your majesty-“ Lord Lehnsherr said suddenly, “- if you are agreeable, perhaps I might give your guest a tour of the castle.” The man hadn’t even looked at Charles once since he’d first entered the throne room; his offer was completely unexpected. Even now, he kept his gaze fixed on the King, his face completely unpresumptuous. He seemed completely submissive to the king, loyal beyond everything, and yet the King looked at him in a mixture of suspicion and amusement.

“If you have the time.” Shaw finally acquiesced with a dismissive wave of his hand. He turned back to Charles, that awful smile re-emerging. “I will send for you later, Xavier. See if we can come to an agreement.”

“I appreciate your hospitality, your majesty.” Charles replied politely, bowing. The king didn’t reply, and he didn’t expect him to either. Instead, he moved back out of the throne room under the direction of Lord Lehnsherr.

Only when the doors shut behind them did Lord Lehnsherr finally look at him again. He was worryingly intimidating, to the point where Charles had to force himself to maintain steady breaths. He wasn’t being led to his death. Or, if he was, there wasn’t much he could do about it now anyway. He could, perhaps, steal a sword and fight. But Lehnsherr was the head of the royal guard. It wasn’t likely Charles would be able to overwhelm him anyway. He was a man of learning far more than a man of brawn.

The castle was much colder outside of the throne room. Charles was grateful he’d brought his heaviest, finest coat, even as the change in season began to dawn on them.

“Forgive me if I am mistaken, Sir, but I believe you treated some of my men a few years back.” His tone was clipped and cold, nothing near the calm and respectful way he spoke to his king. Quiet disgust shot through Charles.

“Yes. A few hadn’t been exposed to the measles in their childhoods in the castle and fell victim.” It was silly, really, and another failure of the kingdom for allowing the castle such a confined lifestyle. Exposure was the most important thing to preventing unnecessary illness in later life- particularly given the measles were more threatening to adults than to infants.

“Your kindness has been rumoured in the castle. It is my understanding that your father was just as merciful in his treatment.”

“At great cost to our family, as I’m sure you are also aware. The more this kingdom grows, the more disease and sickness. I am only one man. I have tried to pass on my knowledge the best I can, but the cost of a medical license is going to cripple the city come next fall.”

“I thought you hadn’t come to talk politics.” Lehnsherr said quietly, holding a door open for him- through which he could see the bright blue sky and hear the distant city around them.

“Forgive me, my lord, I speak out of turn. I concern myself only with the safety of my sister.” He walked out onto the castle wall, grinning at the brisk wind on his face. It was cold still, but it was fresh and, quite possibly, his last look at the outside world.

“You shouldn’t, you know.” Lehnsherr said, leading him eastwards. “Your kindness was rumoured before. Now it is known. You present a threat to the king. The good doctor.” Eyes drifted over him slowly. “The perfect martyr.”

Charles swallowed, heart hammering against his chest. “I assure you, Lord Lehnsherr, I have not entered these walls to martyr myself. I do not concern myself with politics or threats. I have seen what wars do to the people I treat, the people my father helped bring into this world. I have no intention of inciting riots.”

“I’ll be sure to let the King know that, Sir Xavier.” Lehnsherr said firmly, through gritted teeth. “Regardless, the King will not martyr you. He won’t give the people what they expect.”

“Forgive me, you are being worryingly frank with someone you have met only an hour ago. Your commentary on the King should be kept private, should it not?”

“The King trusts me; you should have realised that the moment he let me escort you here.” He snorted. “The rumours of this castle are greatly exaggerated. People are free to come and please as they like. If you leave too often, you may be accused of treachery and executed. If you win the King’s favour, I would encourage you not to leave at all. His favour, once lost, is lost forever.”

“I see.” They moved through a narrow passageway to a balcony that overlooked a courtyard, though it was darkened by the great shadows of the keep. “Why are you telling me this, my Lord?”

Lehnsherr looked at him very simply, all that anger gone. “You saved the lives of my men. You should not perish so easily because of your naivety.”

Charles almost swore. He wasn’t naive. He knew full well he might not emerge from the castle again, and the possibility he might leave with Raven was even slimmer. But he was damned if he wasn’t going to try.

“The Castle Walls are open to all during the daylight. The guards patrol constantly, but there are sunspots and balconies for fresh air. The kitchens and feasting rooms are in the keep, with the King’s quarters at the top. There will be no reason for you to move any higher than the third floor. If you happen to be found there, my men will arrest you on sight.”

So the King was wary of assassination attempts. That made sense given the disputes in the kingdom over his leadership. But Charles wouldn’t need to see the king to kill him, if he ever felt the need to. He knew poisons that would do the job much quicker; medicines he’d used before only when dying naturally would have caused far more pain and hardship.

“I will show you to your quarters in the high tower. There is a library at your disposal there, but others exist on various floors if you so choose.”

“I see. Is there anywhere else I’m not permitted to go?”

“Yeah, keep your pretty gloved hands off the weaponry.” A gruff voice joined them. Charles turned to see a man, or what he assumed was a man; perhaps beast was a better description. He was tall and covered in dark hair, even his face and what was visible of his chest. He looked positively feral.

“Sir Xavier, this is my second in command. Logan, this is the Doctor-“

“Yeah, I’ve heard.” Logan didn’t speak as though he was an important member of the castle. He certainly didn’t address Erik with any significant respect. Logan looked him up and down also, not at all impressed. Charles felt pathetically small stood between the two great warriors, though Logan seemed to make Erik look unnaturally thin too. Charles must have looked childlike to both of them.

“Logan, Doctor Xavier is a guest of the King and will be addressed as such. What did you want?”

“The King seeks an audience with you.” Logan said snidely, a faux superior air to his speech and gestures. “I’ve been told to escort the good Doctor to his chambers.”

“I see.” The two Kings-men locked eyes for a brief moment, but it conveyed a great deal that Charles didn’t understand. They knew something. There were apprehensive of something. What that might be, Charles couldn’t even make an educated guess of.

“Rest from your travel, Sir. Good evening.” Lehnsherr turned on his heel and moved away, leaving a tense silence on the balcony. Charles remembered he was supposed to be scared of the man-beast beside him, and not curious about what the King might want with his head of guards at this precise moment.

“C’mon Doc. Let’s get you to your quarters. God knows when the King’ll want to talk to you.” Logan’s angry façade had dropped; he looked at Charles tiredly. They began walking back down the wall, the last sun hitting Charles’ neck before they entered the castle.

“How much trouble have I caused by turning up unannounced?” Charles asked nervously after a while of walking, their footsteps reverberating in the stone passages. It was chilling and dark the further into the castle they got, and Charles could only hope that his rooms in the tower would be filled with light. Who was he to guess, though? They could yet be prisons.

“Think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” Logan snorted. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re not even a minor inconvenience. This is a castle. We get visitors all the time.”

“I live on the road to the main gates, I see everyone who passes.” He replied quickly, testing the man. He saw far more people enter the castle than leave, but even the first number wasn’t significant. There was a reason there were so many rumours surrounding the castle; no-one ever really left, and if they did, they didn’t speak about what was within.

“Yeah? There’s more than one entrance here. Diplomats and nobility tend to enter through the west gate. It’s safer and less known. Also helps keep the rumours circulating that it’s dangerous to visit the castle. Not that you’ve paid it any attention.”

“Why wouldn’t you want visitors? There are people in the city who seek guidance, who need to appeal laws and plea for tax breaks. Instead they’re forced to flee rather than risk going to their king for aid.”

“The king doesn’t give aid. You’re lucky he’s even treating you by your rank and not your father’s mistakes, though god knows how long that’ll last. Just keep your head down and play nicely, Doc, or you won’t be leaving this castle.”

“I don’t care whether I leave or not. I care about my sister.”

Logan seemed to still slightly, glancing at him before continuing walking. Charles wanted to ask, immediately, terrified and curious about what the man knew. But the guards on the doors ahead of them looked vicious and, instead, he kept his lips pressed tightly together until they began ascended the tower stairs; spiralling up so quickly he was slightly breathless.

“Have you seen her? Is she safe?”

Logan glared at him brilliantly. “Keep it down, would you? I can’t tell you the King’s plans. Even if I knew, I wouldn’t. But she’s unarmed and strong. Stronger than she was when she came here, I’d wager.”

“I-?” Charles fell silent immediately. Strong? Raven had been well-fed and energetic the day she left. Strong was such a peculiar choice of wording. Charles hurried to keep up with Logan’s long strides upward.

 _Strong_.

Nausea travelled from the pit of his stomach upwards. Raven had been drafted into the army. That’s what Logan meant. Raven was physically stronger now; she had to be to wield a sword. She had been taught the basics already, of course. But she’d never killed a man, not even the way Charles had done. Not even mercifully.

The Rebel Army was coming in from the East. He knew it. They all knew it, probably. It would be kill or be killed. And god forbid if Moira joined the rebels to protect him upon her arrival. They could end up fighting each other. Raven and the King’s army against Moira and the Rebels.

“My father used to treat the soldiers here, you know.” He said neutrally, approaching another set of guards. He didn’t know how far up they were now, but his legs ached. “That was a long time ago, of course. We don’t see them anymore.”

Logan looked dead ahead as the guards opened the door. “We got better at fighting.” He stated coolly, as if that answered Charles’ silent question. Maybe it did. Maybe it was true, and there were few injured to require tending to. Perhaps the castle physician was more than enough to treat the injured. Perhaps… perhaps Raven was strong and well-trained, and she would be alright. Or, as Charles dreaded to even dare think about, perhaps the injured were immediately executed for their failure, and hence no doctor was needed at all.

They moved off the staircase then, down a corridor into the main tower. Two more guards stood by a door and stepped forwards as Logan and Charles approached.

“This is Sir Xavier, Doctor of the City.” Logan’s tone had become entirely more formal. “Doctor, these are the guards Erik has assigned you. This is Alexander-“ He gestured to a tall blonde who met his gaze formally. The man next to him had dark skin and warm eyes; he smiled at Charles, less formally. “- and Darwin. They’ll escort you around the castle and answer any of your questions. Your servants will be inside.”

“Thank you, Logan.” He said meaningfully. The older man nodded briskly and then turned on his heel in a fashion not dissimilar to Lehnsherr’s before him. Perhaps it was an army thing. Perhaps, when he finally saw Raven again, she’d be an exact replica of all the soldiers before her. It was a prospect Charles couldn’t bear to think about; the idea that the life and unique identity of his sister might have been beaten out of her for the sake of just another fighter. He watched Logan walk away, suddenly feeling very alone and very out of his depths.


	3. The Queen's Spies

The moment he opened the doors to his quarters, Charles was immediately struck by the light and decadence. Logan was right, the King was treating him by his importance to the city. That was what he’d been counting on, even if he hadn’t expected it to actually happen. He couldn’t predict how long this kindness would last, either, though Lehnsherr had told him that the king wouldn’t give the people what they expected. Charles just wished he’d told people his plans, so then he might know what they expected in the first place.

He had barely examined the quarters before his door opened again with a gentle knock and two women entered, giggling softly. They sobered when they saw him staring, standing formally before him.

“Pardon us, Sir.” The elder one said, curtseying so the younger redhead beside her copied quickly. “I am Ororo and this is Jean; we are to wait on you during your stay in the castle.”

“I’m pleased to meet you.” The women were kind and merry; they smiled widely at his statement, as though he were some important visitor from a foreign kingdom. Raven had always said he was too charming for his own good- though he found it a necessary skill when dealing with the ill or the scared. “I hope I haven’t dragged you from your usual duties. I didn’t realise I’d be welcomed so graciously.”

“This is the King’s castle, Sir, but the Queen would never let a guest go uncared for.” Jean said, tugging at a plait of her red hair. “We’ll do everything we can to help you enjoy your stay. One of us will always be in your quarters.”

“I see.” Not just the Queen’s household, the Queen’s spies. Innocent and unknowing, perhaps, but spies nonetheless. He had no plans of treachery, regardless, so they didn’t concern him awfully. He had every intention of securing his sister’s freedom legally. If that didn’t work, he’d simply endeavour to buy enough time for the Rebel Army to arrive. Though the prospect of ever getting out of the castle was diminishing rapidly, so the latter seemed more likely.

“Do you know my sister? She’s the reason I’m here.” He said, cheerfully, taking a seat in the chair opposite the girls. If they were reporting back to the Queen, it was best to maintain an air of innocence. If he could convince the Queen that he was here only for his sister – that he wasn’t a threat to the Castle – surely that was half the battle.

“We haven’t been permitted to see her, Sir. It’s against castle policy. But don’t worry; I’m sure she’s well.” Ororo said, smiling kindly. Her statement could have applied to the army, but it could also have applied to castle prisoners. While he didn’t not trust Logan, he couldn’t be certain until he’d seen her. Regardless, Ororo’s certain tone provided more comfort than he could have anticipated. She couldn’t have been more than five years older than him, but she had the warmth and nature of a mother. He had seen a mother’s love at the birth of her children and at a child’s death bed, but he’d not known a mother’s love himself in a very long time.

Charles thought as he repositioned the pillow at his back, silently calculating his chance of success if he urged them for more information. Instead he smiled back, “It’s just Charles, please.” He insisted firmly.

The girls giggled again, nodding. “We’ll light the fire now, before the evening sets in. It gets so cold in here. And Jean- go fetch supper. I imagine Charles will want to rest before he sees the King again.”

“Will he see me tonight, do you think, or tomorrow?”

“It’s hard to say, Sir.” Ororo said softly, building the fire. “The King is very busy currently, what with the threat to the East. But he clearly likes you. I hope you can relax a little until you see her. I’m sure she’ll worry if you don’t look well-rested.”

“You’re not wrong.” He relented, his voice quiet. He was already failing to remain alert and on his guard, as the warmth of the fire began to fill the room. It was easy to relax; Ororo humming softly as she bustled around his rooms organising unnecessarily and unpacking his bag for him.

He longed to see Raven. The first month of her absence had been bitter. He’d been distracted by taxes and winter illnesses; not enough sleep and the constant, desperate hope that Raven would simply show up one morning ready to go to work. The second month had been slow and laborious. He’d stopped going out mostly, waiting for her to return. The pattern had continued until Moira had arrived and forced him to regain some shred of dignity in his lifestyle. Then, a few mornings before, he’d woken up to the ice cold clarity that it was time he went after her.

Here he was now. Trapped in the insincere luxury of the King’s guest quarters with no real knowledge of when he might be permitted to leave or when he might see his sister.

He lost himself in the crackling flames, every sensation giving way to exhaustion. He had no idea how long his eyes had been closed for when he felt a hand on his knee and they snapped open, alert and threatened.

“Sorry, Sir. I thought you might be more comfortable in bed. Or there’s supper here, if you like.” Jean said, stepping back into the shadows. Night had fallen in his slumber and only the fire illuminated the room.

“Supper sounds wonderful, thank you Jean. Do join me.” Ororo had disappeared, somewhere. Presumably to report to the Queen, though who was he to be so suspicious. That being said, he still waited until Jean had poured herself a goblet of wine from the jug before he sipped his own, now confident it wasn’t likely to be poisoned.

Supper was an assortment of meat, cheese and bread. Not unlike the food he’d been raised on, but arguably better quality than anything he’d eaten in the last two years. Their quality of life had slipped considerably after their father’s death- and more so when his crimes had come to light. No tax payments and considerable debt for almost a decade. It was a miracle they hadn’t been stripped of their status and titles immediately. He knew a large part of the reason for that was Raven’s volunteered service to the Crown, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

If anything, it made him feel worse. He hadn’t been able to protect her. Hadn’t been able to find a solution before she made a brutal sacrifice that got the job done. She played chess much the same way, and it was never an enjoyable game. 

“You look worried, Sir.” Jean said tentatively. She looked even younger in the dark, her pale face illuminated by the flames- and her hair looked alight itself, a deep, beautiful red. “The Queen always says you should make an effort not to frown. It makes you look older.”

The Queen was well-known for her beauty- known throughout all the kingdoms for it, actually. In her own Kingdom, she was known for her public silence. Though she did as most Queens did and toured the kingdom, starting with a trip to the nearest city, she never spoke or engaged with the public. She was Shaw’s silent, adoring wife. An iridescent beauty, always distant and cold. The Ice Queen, who never once smiled- let alone frowned.

But that wasn’t everything. Charles was perceptive enough to realise that. There was a sadness in Jean’s eyes that couldn’t possibly have been staged. The Queen didn’t just mean she disliked frowning. There was one man who had frown lines so great, it had been one of the first things Charles’ had noticed about him. The King.

If he wasn’t mistaken, the Queen was trying to tell people she disliked the King.

“The Queen is far wiser than I, Jean. Though I like to think the people feel comforted by my frown lines. It shows I’ve been worrying about them.” Although, on some occasions, it had also revealed bad news in a way he hadn’t been intending to. It was never pleasant when someone realised there was no hope from a single look.

“My family live in the City. I write to them every week, but they don’t reply as often these days. They say ink is becoming expensive.”

“More so with every month that passes.” Charles sighed heavily, tearing at some bread. He was suddenly famished and energised by his nap. “We need to make trade connections with the southern lands, where they have better access to the ocean.”

“They wouldn’t trade with us. They’re allied with the Kingdom of Dania.” Jean replied instantly, shaking her head. She was right, which both surprised Charles and then sent shame cursing through him for being surprised. The southern kingdom Lilla were allied with Dania, and Genosha had attacked Dania a few years before. Hundreds of lives had been lost, mostly Danian, and with the reward of only a few square miles of land.

“Then we should find an alternative to ink.” He replied, attempting a smile. “I find beetroot had remarkable staining properties.”

Jean laughed, “Then I’ll be sure to instruct the cook to refrain from serving you beetroot. I have no intention of delivering stained clothing to the washers. The women there are terrifying forces of nature.”

“I can imagine.” He grinned, stifling a yawn. Supper was gone and he was left feeling full and sleepy once again, the dreaded results of good food and wine.

“You should sleep, Sir. You’ll join the King for breakfast in the hall tomorrow, at 8 o’clock.”

He nodded in understanding and bid her farewell, moving through to the privacy of his bedroom. He stripped as he approached the bed, grinning to himself when he climbed beneath the covers and felt the heat of a bed warmer by his feet. As unideal as the situation he found himself in was, he couldn’t deny himself a good night’s sleep in luxury. It had been so long since he had slept without his clothes on, huddled up on the seat of the one room in his manor, only half-sleeping as he waited for Raven or the ill.

Sleep came easily. His last thought was of his sister and his hope that, wherever she was in the castle, she was equally as cared for and well-fed.


	4. A Fine Prison

The next morning, Charles woke to light streaming in through the windows of the tower. It was another bright morning, and spring seemed even closer given the blue sky, though reaching his hand out of his duvet he knew the chill of the cold months was still upon them yet. He allowed himself to lay for a minute before forcing himself to sit up. The clothes he’d shed the night before had been collected and hung up, and on the desk sat a tray of fruit and nuts, and a jug of water. He supposed they were to snack on until breakfast and he began to slide out of bed, willing to risk the cold for the sake of a glass of water and some walnuts.

Just as his feet hit the stone floor, there was a gentle knock at his door. He climbed back under the covers in time for the door to open. Ororo entered smiling widely at him.

“Good morning, Sir. I’m sorry to intrude so early, but the King has moved breakfast back an hour. His highness is going on a hunting trip with Lord Quested.”

“I see.” He didn’t see. He was immediately suspicious. If the King wasn’t in the castle, surely that meant he could leave as he pleased? Or perhaps it meant the exact opposite. Perhaps he couldn’t leave without the King’s permission. It was beyond him why the King chose now to partake in recreational activities; an army _was_ marching in from the East to overthrow him, after all. “I’ll get ready immediately then?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Please- it’s Charles.” He corrected softly, and her smile widened in response as she curtseyed and left him alone again.

He dressed quickly, splashing his face with cold water before exiting his quarters. His guards remained the same as those Lehnsherr had assigned him the day before; Alex and Darwin, he recalled. Both were in good spirits as they escorted him to the Hall, and Charles couldn’t help but think the King’s imminent departure might have something to do with it. He reminded himself firmly that correlation was not necessarily causation.

“Sir Charles Xavier.” He was announced as he entered the hall. No-one looked up at him this time, not even when he was escorted to the King’s table. He was seated between Lehnsherr and a Lady he distantly recognised, though she clearly had no interest in speaking to him and turned her back to him slightly.

“I trust you slept well, Sir Xavier?” Lehnsherr asked, his voice low from the early hour. Charles was no fool; he knew the man had probably already been awake and training for hours. He wasn’t naïve to the way of the King’s army. The men he had treated over the years had told him a little of their lifestyle, which was why his hope was so strong for his sister. There was every chance she was happy and healthy.

“Quite, my Lord. The King has bestowed great kindness on me; I have intruded on his time for too long.”

“And yet here you remain. Your sister must mean a great deal to you.” Lehnsherr confused Charles to know end. He seemed to alternate constantly between cold and almost charming, awkward concern.

“She does. It is the sad reality of an older brother that I remember her always as the infant she once was, and not the strong woman she is now.” That earned him a smile, which was oddly encouraging. “Do you have any siblings, Lord Lehnsherr?”

“No. The closest I have to a brother is Logan.” Lehnsherr snorted. “He is as challenging as I imagine your sister might find you, being younger. Though I would trust him with my life in battle.”

“I rather think I might, and I have only known him a day.” Charles agreed. Logan had been an unmistakable warrior, but his gruff character was more reassuring than anyone else he’d met in the Castle yet. He seemed a decent man, and Lehnsherr clearly agreed. Charles could help but grin when Lehnsherr laughed. It was a sincere laugh; deep and rich. The whole experience was tainted by the sudden suspicion he felt towards the man. He couldn’t understand why he was so amiable today, having been so restrained the day before.

“Yes, he does tend to have that effect on people. That’s why his character is so poor. People trust him regardless of how callous and crude he is.”

“Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing- though I am an outsider, of course.”

“Of course.” Lehnsherr agreed, finishing his water. “Forgive me, Sir, I have to complete my duties. I never account for changes in the King’s routine.”

“I imagine it would be hard to without knowing in advance. Please, my lord, you can forgo the ‘Sir’. It is not a title I earned. Doctor or Charles are both fine with me.” He wasn’t sure why he was choosing Lehnsherr as an ally. Aside from the slight trust he had shown in him for having tended to his soldiers before, he didn’t really have any other reason for liking the man.

“Good morning, then, Doctor.” He bowed his head lightly and departed, walking with the same purposeful stride he’d displayed yesterday.

“Lord Lehnsherr has the right idea.” The King suddenly said, loudly. “I think my servants have had enough time to prepare for my journey. Perhaps the Doctor might walk me to my carriage.”

“It would be an honour, my King.”

The hall looked up then, all tipping their heads to the King as he departed. Charles followed a step behind until they reached the passageways, at which point he joined the King at the hurrying flick of his wrist.

“You brought very little with you, I notice, Doctor.” Either the King had noticed he was wearing the same attire as the previous day, or Jean and Ororo had specifically reported his lack of luggage.

“Yes, your majesty. I’m afraid I wasn’t anticipating a long stay.” He replied honestly, keeping his gaze ahead rather than attempting to judge the King’s reaction to his statement. The rumours about not leaving the castle were purely nonsense by a scared, indoctrinated city. Lehnsherr had told him specifically that visitors came and went all the time.

“But stay you must, Doctor Xavier. Your sister is training with my army.” He confirmed, finally, and a mixture of relief and abstract horror coursed through Charles’ system. “She has committed herself to a full mission and then her debt to me will be repaid.” A single mission seemed reasonable, Charles thought, in the grand scheme of things. Especially considering how imminent a mission seemed with the approaching rebels. But she’d been in the castle for months already, and who knew how long it would be before she was actually sent out to battle.

“And she is well, your majesty?” He imagined she was, given what Logan had said. Stronger.

“Quite. You may survey her training from the castle walls, under supervision of course.”

“You are very gracious, my King.” Charles lied, making a solemn effort to not grit his teeth. He didn’t know why Shaw was even permitting him access to see her. It didn’t make any sense. “But I couldn’t possibly impose myself on your castle any further. I have a duty to the people. They may need my services.”

“Nonsense. Spring is coming, Doctor. The people will flourish in the fine weather. You will be our guest until your sister is home from the war.” So he was to be a captive until the Rebels were defeated. Until he could no longer become a martyr to their cause.

“And if my sister were to not return from your war?” He didn’t put it past Shaw to have Raven killed if he stepped a toe out of line during his stay at the Castle, which made the prospect all the more threatening.

The king met his gaze with a steely expression and ignored his question pointedly. “Your clothes will be provided for. I’m sure the libraries will fit your expectations; you may work as you please here. The Queen returned this morning, also. I’m sure she would be glad to indulge your company.”

“Your kindness is boundless, my king.”

“And here, I have heard that _you_ are the kind one. The good Doctor.” Shaw smiled, but there was a coldness behind his eyes that Charles couldn’t help but hate. If he heard the phrase ‘good doctor’ once more in his stay at the castle, he might give up all hope entirely. There was nothing good or kind about the things he had done. Regardless, Shaw seemed done with whatever vaguely threatening point he was making and moved swiftly on.

“You must make an effort not to distract my head of the royal guard, Doctor. He seems quite taken with you.”

Charles stared at him for a moment, deeply confused. “I am not monopolising your time for the sake of finding a husband, your Majesty.” Not that he would be opposed to Lehnsherr, in other circumstances. Unfortunately, he was sincere in his statement. He cared only for his sister. “I’m sure Lord Lehnsherr is more dedicated to the cause and your good self than finding a husband too.”

“You are very innocent for a Doctor.” Shaw said, eyebrow quirked. “If you have no intentions of marrying above you, Doctor, perhaps you also quarrel with the idea of entertainment?”

 _Entertainment?_ Charles almost choked in his surprise. Not that he had a celibate past, not at all, but the idea of being a play thing for one of the King’s favourite Lords was despicable. “I think not, your highness. I’d rather marry.” He said, taking a calming breath and trying not to appear off-put, even if he suspected it was far too late for that now.

“There is your answer, good doctor. If your sister doesn’t survive the war, you will marry Lord Lehnsherr.”

 _Fuck._ He hadn’t intended to give Shaw an opening like that. He hadn’t thought before he spoke. If there was anything worse than being entertainment to the King’s right hand man, then it was certainly being married to him. He’d never be allowed to carry on with his profession, let alone leave the castle and return home. His entire life would be dictated to him by the King.

“Your majesty-“

“We will talk again when I return, Doctor.” Shaw said blandly, getting into his carriage. Charles had no choice but to bow lightly and take a step back, relenting to his King’s wishes. He felt sick. The possibility he might throw up was becoming more and more likely with every anxious thought that crossed his mind. He could only hope that Raven would survive; that the rebels would defeat Shaw sooner rather than later. He found himself suddenly aligned in a war he’d never previously cared for, in ways he didn’t even fully comprehend. His foolhardy rescue mission had resulted in his own imprisonment. His freedom relied on either his Sister or an army.

It took a good few minutes for the King’s servants to finish packing his supplies, but eventually the carriages and king’s guard began to move down towards the West Gates. He watched them go, not trusting his legs to move quite yet without his knees buckling beneath him. The courtyard was mostly in shadow, but he revelled in the coolness of it. It grounded him. The sky above him was clouding over as he stood and he stared up, desperately, as though looking for a sign that everything would work out.

Instead, he caught the platinum blonde hair of Queen Emma watching him from a window a few floors up. He bowed deeply, maintaining eye contact with the woman. She wasn’t smiling or frowning or anything. Her face was completely straight for a long time. Then, she tipped her head to him slightly and moved from the window, as though she were gliding. Her elegance and beauty was by no means exaggerated. Charles only wished he’d been able to get a better judge of her mood now that her husband had departed. Regardless, he was sure they’d meet in the coming days.

The courtyard was empty now; all the other nobility or servants who had come to see the King depart had gone already. Mildly certain he wasn’t about to fall over anymore, Charles took slow steps and made his way back into the castle. As prisons went, at least he would be comfortable for the foreseeable future.


	5. Erik

"Doctor Xavier?”

Charles looked up from his book sharply, surprised by the voice. Lord Lehnsherr stood in the doorway of the Library, dressed in his armour and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Lord Lehnsherr,” He greeted, closing his book and standing to greet the older man. He hadn’t seen him leave with the King earlier that day, but he’d assumed he had gone earlier as the King’s protection detail. “I didn’t realise you’d still be in the Castle.”

“My priorities lie as Senior Marshal now, with the Rebel threats. The King is well protected, I assure you.” He took a further step into the Library. “Forgive my state, I came straight from training. I thought you might like to see you sister.”

Charles almost gasped. “Yes! Please, Lord Lehnsherr.”

“Come, you can observe her from the castle walls.” He gestured to the door and Charles hurried through it. He’d been miserable all morning, distracting himself in his reading, but this was progress. This was potentially something wonderful. If he could just see Raven, just know that she was well and not miserable, then his own hardships would be bearable. He could put up with being confined to the castle or, god forbid, potential marriage, as long as he got Raven at the end of it all.

“The King informed me that you are to be staying in the castle for the foreseeable future.”

“It seems so, yes.” Charles replied as they began descending from the tower. “The King seems to have taken a particular interest in my future.”

“I told you yesterday, Sir, you’re a threat. Even if you don’t mean to be. Even if the only thing you care for is your sister- in fact, that might make you more of a threat. I did as I said I would and informed the king of your single-mindedness. He will not trust you until the Rebels have been crushed, I’m afraid.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him to say it, but Charles was suddenly overwhelmed with irritation. “Then perhaps the King does not trust you as much as you seem to think. If he did, surely I’d be granted either my sister or my freedom.”

“Is this a question of your freedom now, Sir? Yesterday, you cared only for your sister's.”

“My name is Charles. And I do care only for my sister. But there are sick and dying in the city, my patients need me. This faux freedom is designed for those less intelligent than I, my Lord.”

“Erik.” Lehnsherr corrected swiftly. “My name is Erik. And you’re wrong. This faux freedom is designed specifically to teach the educated in society that they are not above the Crown. Your duty is not to the people, Charles, it is to the King and his desires.”

_And if he desires we marry?_ Charles bit back his retort easily. He was too shocked by Erik’s statement, and his name. It was more acceptable for his name to be used because he wasn’t nobility. But to be granted Erik’s given name was both confusing and far too rewarding. He was half-convinced it was a ploy; if he fell for Erik, he wouldn’t _want_ to leave the castle, surely.

“And does the King not desire that his people are fit and healthy, able to pay taxes and work?”

“We both know the answer to that Charles.” Erik said suddenly, his voice low and dangerous. His entire statement was dangerous. It was practically traitorous. They had both insinuated the King was unfit to serve the people, but Charles couldn’t truly be certain that Erik meant it. Erik might simply have been looking for an excuse to lock him up.

“I'm afraid I don’t know what you mean, Erik.” He said with forced calm, slowing to a stop before the doors to the wall. A short way behind them, Alexander and Darwin slowed also. Erik must have trusted them to speak such things around them, but it didn't mean that Charles did. As pleasant as the gentlemen were, they answered to Erik and the King. He had no way of knowing they weren't the King's spies as much as Ororo and Jean were the Queen's. 

“No? I forgot; you are not here for politics.” Erik’s smirk was sinful. “Do you play Chess, Charles?”

“I do, Erik.”

“I insist we play sometime. I’m almost certain you would be a worthy opponent.” Charles almost smiled at the compliment. If they weren’t to discuss politics, then surely chess was the next best thing. The man opposite him confused him to no end. He was probably a significant threat to his life, despite his alleged dislike of the King. Regardless of all these factors, Charles couldn’t turn down an offer to spend more time with him.

“I am certain I would.” He replied steadily, meeting Erik’s gaze for a long moment. The Head of the Royal Guard opened the door ahead of him swiftly, and gestured to the daylight.

“Your sister, Charles.” He reminded him, smiling lightly. Charles grinned and hurried out onto the wall, approaching the balcony that overlooked the courtyard. This training yard was nothing like the King’s courtyard. This was bathed in light and much larger, even with the army lined up taking up almost half the area.

He spotted his sister with ease. Her blonde hair plaited down her back securely- at least they hadn’t taken that part of her identity away from her; he'd half expected her to have had her hair cut away for the sake of practicality. What’s more, she truly did look happy. Her cheeks were pink from exercise and the evening chill. She marched in line with the others, the second row from the front, in perfect formation.

“She’s a natural.” Erik commented quietly, having joined him on the balcony.

Charles didn’t reply, too enthralled by the sight of his sister. He watched the army break into smaller groups and draw their swords, practising relentlessly. Raven wielded a sword like it was merely an extension of her army; with extraordinary ease and skill.

“Does she know I’m here?” He asked suddenly, after a few minutes of wishing she’d just glance up to their balcony.

“No.” Charles looked to Erik sharply, his heart aching. “The King didn’t wish to distract her from her work.”

He turned back to the army, not wanting to show Erik how upset he was at that. Damn the King. He wanted his sister to know he hadn't forgotten her, that he wanted to help her. They were too high up to be seen easily. If he shouted or called for her, he’d probably get them both in trouble. He kept his lips pressed tightly together and watched her, laughing as she duelled the guard he believed let him into the castle the day before- Sean, if he remembered rightly.

“I appreciate this is hard, Charles. But your sister is a strong soldier. She’ll return from the war and Shaw will grant you permission to leave. He likes to exert his dominance every so often, but he can be lenient with the right persuasions.”

“You would know better than I.” Charlies said, flippantly, unwilling to drag his eyes from his sister just yet. He appreciated Erik’s attempts at comfort. He was glad to know Shaw’s right hand man had faith in the actions of the King, but overall the statement wasn’t entirely reassuring.  Charles didn’t know what the ‘right persuasions’ were. From Erik, perhaps, or from the Queen?

“We should depart now, before the archers come.” The man beside him said quietly, his voice low to the distant clanging of swords in the courtyard below.

Reluctant though he was, Charles followed Erik away. It was the only thing he could do to ensure he was allowed to return tomorrow, and the day after. Back inside the castle was bleak and miserable, though he was cheered by the sight of his sister in good spirits. He wished she knew he was there; that he had come for her.

“You train daily, Erik?”

“Twice daily, Charles.” Erik replied. “The King might send us away at any moment. It is our duty to be prepared for such occasions.” Now Erik was being blatant in his mocking of the King; it was a joke how often Shaw waged unnecessary wars on weak countries that had done nothing to warrant invasion. Whatever gave Erik the impression he was against the King too, he really couldn’t say. He was still half-convinced this was a trap.

“Of course. You must be well-seasoned in war.”

“Perhaps too much.” They turned onto the stairs to the tower. “It is all I have ever known. That’s why the King keeps me so close. I was raised to be a warrior.” The implications of his statement were three-fold. It might have been a warning for Charles not to get too attached to the man- and loathe though he was to say it, it was probably a necessary warning. Secondly, it alluded to Erik’s reasoning for staying by the King; not out choice- he was performing his duty to the king, exactly as was expected of Charles. It was, after all, the place of the intelligent man. Finally, it gave Charles an indication of who Erik fundamentally believed himself to be. Charles had seen soldiers crying and begging for the comfort of their home and their families. He couldn’t imagine ever seeing Erik like that; Erik was earnest in his belief that fighting and war was all the future held for him.

It was so sad, Charles thought, that a man as clever and funny as Erik would waste to the wars of a selfish king.

“And I to be a doctor.” He replied after a moment’s thought.

“You save lives.” Erik pointed out, as if he were the complete opposite.

“I take them, too.” Charles countered darkly. “We are not so different, Erik.”

Erik surveyed him carefully. “I will escort you to the castle wall again, in the morning. Until then, Charles.” He bowed deeply. Charles found himself back at the Library he’d been in earlier, Jean stood timidly in the corner and his book precisely where he’d left it in his earlier rush, a bookmark tucked carefully into the pages.

“Good evening, Erik. And thank you.”

Erik smiled tightly at him, departing. Darwin closed the door behind him and suddenly, he felt exhausted. He sunk onto his earlier seat; Ororo must have lit the fire in the floor below, because it’s heat was rising through a grate in the floor.

“Can I tell you something in confidence, Sir?”

“Charles-“ He corrected, “-and of course you may, Jean. I wouldn’t tell a soul.”

“Well, Lord Lehnsherr has never engaged with a guest before the way he has with you.” She was blushing lightly, as though delighted by the idea that they were together.

“Forgive me Jean, but that only serves to make me more suspicious to his intentions.”

“I think he intends to court you, Sir.” She paused, eyes widening. “Oh, he’s not spying on you for the King, Charles! I’d bet my life on it.” She took a seat, glancing around nervously. “I know you’re new to the castle, but that’s almost happened before. When we’ve had important dignitaries or nobility, the King has tried to force Lord Lehnsherr into a marriage.”

“So why hasn’t he wed yet?” Charles asked, thoroughly confused. If it hadn’t worked so far, what gave Shaw the impression it would this time? He’d already specifically threatened him with marriage to Erik.

“Because he’s so powerful. The king would infinitely prefer to marry him off and send him away, but Lehnsherr keeps finding ways to stay in the castle. Shaw can’t force him out because Lehnsherr would lead a much greater Rebellion than anything from the East.”

“So why not just kill Eri- I mean, Lord Lehnsherr?”

“Because he’s the only thing holding the King’s army together. Don’t you see? If he keeps Lord Lehnsherr alive, he constantly faces the threat of being usurped. If he kills Lord Lehnsherr, the Rebels will overpower him in a matter of months.”

“I see.” He trailed off, sinking deeper into his cushions. It was a great deal of information to take in, really. He seemed to have attracted the attention of the most powerful man in court without intending to. All he’d wanted was his sister’s freedom.

“Do you like Lord Lehnsherr?” Jean asked, almost too innocently. He looked up, uncertainly. He’d wager the Queen was behind this. Even if it was all true, the Queen was testing his reaction by feeding him information. She wanted to know his intentions with Erik.

If Charles was right, and the Queen hated the King, that meant she had a lot to lose or a lot to gain depending on Erik’s decisions. Of course she would care about a potential courtship.

“The King has told me to marry him, should my sister not return from the war.” He admitted quietly. “I imagine I’d like to marry him either way, but there is too much at stake. Clearly he is a very powerful figure in the castle. If he even wanted to marry, it certainly wouldn’t be to me.”

Jean smiled serenely at him, sitting on the floor at his feet and picking up his book. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I wasn’t exaggerating before, Lord Lehnsherr truly hasn’t ever paid anyone as much interest as he has you. I think he really likes you.” She opened the book and started reading aloud, her voice sweet and soothing.

He didn’t pay attention to the words, too distracted by their conversation still. If Jean was being honest, Erik really did like him. That pleased him more than it probably should have done, considering he didn’t have the time or lifestyle to actually marry a Lord. Honestly, he didn’t really have a clue what he was doing. He could decide his future when he knew his sister was safe.


	6. The Queen

Rain poured down the next morning. It was completely miserable, but it didn’t stop Charles following Erik eagerly out onto the balcony to watch his sister, quietly revelling in the stone silence of the other man. After his conversation with Jean, he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to be alone with Erik. It was all too confusing, so he focused all his energy on his sister instead. It was harder to spot her this morning; they were all wearing hooded robes with their armour against the rain, but he recognised her laughter, loud, in the middle of the courtyard as she ducked and dived in their fist-fights.

“She really is good.”

“I told you so. Logan has been training her well.” Erik replied, good-naturedly. “She seems to enjoy it, too.”

“I imagine she would. She hated traipsing around the city and tending to common illnesses. She could only bear helping me when there was some sort of pressure behind it.” He paused, grinning when he watched her opponent go down to the floor, hands up in defeat. Then panic struck him so suddenly, his face froze in its grin. He supposed he looked deranged to Erik. “Do you think she’ll want to stay on in the army?”

“I couldn’t say.” He could feel Erik watching him, but he kept his eyes trained on his sister.

“If she does, what will you do?”

If she did, his best chance at seeing his sister regularly would be to give up his profession and stay in the castle. To marry Erik, exactly as Shaw had said. “I don’t know.” He admitted, quietly, taking a step back from the balcony. He pushed his sodden fringe from his face, Erik following him out of the rain.

“I shouldn’t have allowed you out for this long, you’ll catch your death. Come, you should warm up.” He found himself led into a nearby library, where a fire was lit already. He shrugged away his confusion, sinking down into an armchair.

What if Raven truly did intend to stay and fight with the army? It provided a lifestyle for her that she’d never have been able to acquire with him, whilst also clearing their father’s debt. Of course Raven didn’t know he was trapped in the castle now; she didn’t know he’d never wanted her to give her life for their name.

“This is the Queen’s favourite library. There’s always a fire lit in case she decides to visit.” Erik said, taking a seat opposite him. “You look pale, Charles. Your sister joined the Army for you. I’m sure she wouldn’t re-enlist without seeing you. Even if she did, she’d be able to write home to you then.”

“And I would be immensely grateful to learn of her wellbeing from her own hand or mouth, of course.” He looked up at Erik. He was infuriatingly handsome; his hair still dripping wet and his eyes were bright and concerned. He would make a good husband, Charles thought. He was strong and brave, funny and intelligent. “But if she chose to stay on, I think I’d be more concerned for my own fate than for hers.” He admitted.

“The King will let you return to the City, Charles. I have influence, and the Queen more so. There is no reason you’ll be forced to remain here.”

“The King told me, before he left, that I should marry you.”

“Oh.” Erik looked paler than Charles felt, staring ahead blankly. He looked sick at the idea, which in turn sent pain reeling in his stomach. Jean was wrong- Erik didn’t like him at all. Or, if he did, he was disgusted by the idea of marriage to him. “Charles-“

The door opened swiftly, drawing Charles’ attention away. He felt pathetically like crying but had no choice but to stand, wishing all his emotion away, as the Queen stepped into the room. They bowed deeply as she entered, as beautiful up close as she always had been from a distance. She looked radiant and ice cold, but, much to Charles’ surprise, she smiled at him. It was a thin, unnatural thing, but a smile nonetheless.

“Doctor Xavier. I’ve been hoping to stumble across you ever since my return.” She gave him no time to reply as she turned her head stiffly to Erik. “And my dear Erik. How blow the winds today?”

“Blowing north today, My Queen.” Erik replied quietly, his eyes still lingering on Charles. He could feel them, burning. “Forgive me, my Queen, I allowed Sir Charles out in the cold and rain. He should warm up.”

Charles couldn’t even bring himself to look at Erik again. He’d known the man a few days only, and he didn’t understand how the rejection was so crushing to him. He hadn’t even offered anything; the King had. Perhaps this was for the best, after all. He’d never see Raven again, Erik would find a way to prevent the marriage and Charles would be allowed to leave the Castle peacefully.

“How foolish of you, Erik.” The Queen’s voice was silky and not at all trustworthy; her eyes sparkled with mirth as though she were playing a game. “Sir Charles will sit with me until I deem him warm and dry.”

“Thank you, your Majesty. If I may be excused, my men are waiting.”

“Of course, Erik. You may report to me before supper this evening, if you please.”

Erik bowed low once again and departed. Charles could feel Erik’s eyes lingering on him as he closed the door, and then he was very alone with the Queen of the Kingdom.

“And how was your sister this morning, Sir Charles?” Emma asked, taking Erik’s discarded seat and observing him through cool eyes.

“She looked well, your majesty. I have been very impressed by her level of training.”

“A necessity with the approaching Rebels, I should think.” She smiled again, tightly. “You’re frowning, Charles. Did Erik say something to upset you? That man has fewer social skills than my husband.”

“No, ma’am. Forgive me, I find myself distracted this morning.” He admitted softly.

“If you are certain, Sir. But do make an effort not to frown. Men who frown are unhappy. Men who are unhappy do terrible things to find satisfaction.” She leaned forwards pointedly. “But you are a Doctor, are you not? You understand the difficulty in handling terrible things. Are you merciful and kill the problem, at great personal cost, or do you try to appease it?”

Of course, Charles thought with a sinking feeling in his stomach. In the Queen’s pretty little metaphor, the problem was the King.

“I have found that appeasing problems never works, ma’am. It only causes more hardship in the long run.” He replied, shrewdly. He was done talking about rebellion; done talking at all. He wanted to go back to bed and listen to Jean’s sweet reading until he forgot all his problems.

“I see.” Emma looked thoughtful for a moment. “Have breakfast with me tomorrow, Charles. I think I should like to hear more of your view points. You are the most interesting visitor we’ve had in a long time.”

“You flatter me, ma’am.” Regardless of all his instincts that told him not to trust the Queen, he couldn’t help but like her. She was as intelligent as she was beautiful, and he was now completely convinced she hated the King too. Why else would she talk of killing or appeasing? “But I find that hard to believe.”

“Your modesty is enchanting, Sir, but you should take your Queens word as law.”

The room fell silent for a minute as the Queen’s servants entered, carrying a tray of tea for one and assorted foods.

“If I’m not mistaken, I believe Ororo intended to show you the castle school today. Change first, if you would, or you’ll catch a chill.”

He bowed his head slightly, taking that as his cue to leave and making his way to the door.

“And Charles?”

“Your Majesty?”

“Whatever darling Erik said, I wouldn’t take it at face value. It is hard to communicate one’s emotions when you’ve been trained not to have them.” It was an illuminating statement. The Queen liked and understood Erik, he’d figured that much out already. Erik has said himself, he was raised to be a soldier. He didn’t have the capacity for domesticity.

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” He attempted a smile and left, utterly exhausted by his emotions and it was not yet even noon. Were he at home, he’d already have tended to half a dozen patients and he would have a dozen more to see. The luxury of the castle made him lazy, he thought. He selfishly indulged his own emotions, forgetting about the people he’d left behind. It was just as easy to forget about the rebellion and Raven, too, but never for long.

The Rebellion was coming. He could feel it in the atmosphere are the castle; in the way the army trained relentlessly from sunrise to sunset. He just had to keep his head down until it was all over. Erik- the King and Queen, they didn’t matter. He came for Raven, and he’d be damned if he let anyone distract him from his purpose.


	7. Northern Winds

The afternoon was much brighter than the morning had been. Ororo had stripped Charles down the moment she saw him and forced him into a hot bath. He’d rested and picked at food for an hour before getting ready to visit the Castle Classroom. Ororo filled him in as they walked, chatting happily about the children of the castle and their progress. She taught there occasionally, and her passion for it was infectious.

Charles found he missed the children of the city. The ones that ran to him when their parents or friends were hurt. The ones that ran with him when he was running to a patient. The children who constantly pestered him with questions as he was trying to work, and the ones that hugged him tightly before an injection. They were half the reason he kept working.

The children of the castle were bound by a number of rules that prevented them from truly being children. Charles had been surprised to even learn of their existence; he’d not heard a peep in his stay at the castle so far, not even a sign that there were children around. But the classroom was alive with laughter and the free innocence of the young.

“Ororo!” A young boy, no older than twelve, came charging towards them. He looked vaguely familiar, with a mop of blonde hair on his head. It took Charles only a second to place that rueful face.

“Scott, compose yourself. This is Sir Charles Xavier. He’s visiting the castle currently.” Ororo’s smile widened. “Your brother is his personal guard.” She added, placing some false great importance onto Charles.

“Really!?” Scott looked up at Charles with round, enquiring eyes. He looked so proud of his big brother that it made Charles’ stomach pang slightly for his own sister. “I’m going to be in the army one day too. And then we’ll both protect you when you come to visit.”

“I don’t doubt it, Scott.” Charles smiled widely.

“Run along, Scott. You have reading to finish.” Ororo instructed maternally. He did as he was told and she turned to Charles, “He works in the kitchens when he’s not in school. It’s a dangerous job, but it’s the only way Shaw would let him stay in the castle with Alexander after their parents died. It’s only thanks to Queen Emma that we have this classroom to teach him in.”

Charles got the vaguest sense that both Ororo and Jean had been trying to convince him of the Queen’s innocence in the failure of the Castle to protect the Kingdom from hardship. He didn’t see why his opinion was so important. He didn’t understand anything that had happened to him in the last week, frankly. He’d gone from a trodden on Doctor in the City to someone who seemed to have attracted the attention of the most important people in the castle, where he was effectively being held as a prisoner by the King.

“The Queen is a great deal different to the image she presents to the public.” He commented blandly. “Perhaps if she presented her true self to the City, she might not feel the need to convince me of her righteousness now.”

“Charles, you speak out of turn.” Ororo replied, her tone hushed as though any one of the children around them might have been spies. “The Queen is constricted in her choices always. No decision is made lightly, not in this castle. I thought you might have recognised that by now.”

It was a skill as compelling as her motherly nature that Ororo had successfully managed to make him feel guilty. He _had_ liked the Queen, her intelligence and composure had impressed him. The memory was tempered only by his shame and anger at Erik, from earlier in the morning.

“Forgive me, Ororo. I _do_ appreciate the binding nature of a public role; I have experienced such limitations many times myself.” He told her, as the children were forced back to their desks to resume reading by their teacher. He was earnest in his apology; he _had_ struggled as a Doctor. Not with the work, but without it. It had been impossible to maintain friendships in the City with anyone but Moira. He either ended up breaking their hearts with bad news or failing to keep them happy with his busy schedule. He much preferred his books and research. He, like Erik, wasn’t made for marriage. He lowered his voice further, careful not to disturb the now quiet class. “I’m merely bitter, today.”

“There’s a storm coming in from the East.” Ororo said, gesturing to the window. She was right; the blue skies were slowly lost to clouds, and Charles could see rain in the distance. “Come, Sir, you should have some fresh air before the rain hits again.”

They exited the classroom, and Charles was sorry to have to leave. If, by some unfortunate sequence of events, he did end up trapped in the castle forever, he wasn’t appalled by the idea of spending his days teaching. He rather thought it would be a much simpler, happier lifestyle. To concern himself only with the questions of children, rather than the pain of the ill and dying.

Charles frowned as he found himself on the balcony without having paid any attention to the journey. Alex had joined him as his guard, whilst Ororo had disappeared with some vague excuse about finding Jean. He didn’t care if she was going to report to the Queen and, even if he did, there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

The wind blew harsh against his face, making his eyes water pitifully. In the distance, he could see the flag of the city hall billowing out with the force of the approaching storm.

_How blow the winds?_ The Queen had asked, earlier _. Blowing North,_ Erik had replied.

_There’s a storm coming in from the East,_ Ororo had said.

Charles faltered in his step as the realisation dawned on him. He moved away from Alex swiftly, resting his hands against the wall and staring out ahead. He suddenly felt pale and clammy- unnecessarily affected by the sudden truth. The wind was code. It was brilliant - not quite genius, but clever enough to keep the King in the dark, it seemed. The stormy was coming in from the East’ he could see that with his own eyes. The storm and the rebellion, both far in the distance but fast approaching all the same. But that wasn’t all. The northern winds of which Erik spoke weren’t real; they were rebels. Not the rebellion, but an army from the North of the Kingdom. An army, so it seemed, that was being orchestrated by the Head of the Royal Guard.  

He could smell the storm’s approach; the smooth scent of rain. This would solve all his problems. This was why Erik was so certain that Charles would leave. With the King defeated, his sister and himself would both be free. He could return to practicing medicine and not worry about forced marriages or falling for a man he’d known all of a few days. He’d have nothing to worry about at all, beyond taxes and license fees and medicine prices. Old worries that suddenly seemed so much more manageable.

“Charles?”

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was surprised by the sudden appearance of Erik. It seemed he was never truly alone in the Castle, and he had no reason to think that the Head of the Royal Guard wouldn’t be tracking his exact position within the castle at all times – even with the King away still. Regardless, having worked out the fact that Erik was committing treason and liking the man to a dangerous extent, Charles wasn’t quite in the right frame of mind to talk to him.

“Lord Lehnsherr.” He replied quietly, still looking out to the City. He had hoped the formal title would convey his anti-social feelings; that Erik would leave quietly, without a fuss. Instead, he heard his quiet huff of indignation at the use of the title. In the corner of his eyes, he saw the man step closer to him.

“I wish to explain myself- my behaviour this morning.”

“There is nothing to explain, I’m sure. Forgive me, I find myself tired today. I’m not particularly good company.”

“You are forgiven, of course, but I’m sure the fault is mine.” Erik stood closer still. “If I were to marry you, Charles - if I were to even ask – I wouldn’t want it to be on order of the King.” Charles finally turned and looked at the Head Marshall, his chest feeling oddly light and fluttery. He felt pathetic, and at the same time distractedly elated. “And if you were to agree to marry me, I couldn’t bear it if you did so only to remain close to your sister.”

“Erik-“ Interrupting was not an option. Erik was on a mission, it seemed, taking his arm and guiding him further away from the door- away from the potentially prying ears of their guards.

“I am not your enemy, Charles.” He said, hurriedly. “I know have no reason to trust me, but my intentions are pure. Do not mistake me for the enemy. I assure you, we’re on the same side.”

In spite of everything, Charles couldn’t help but nod softly. “I believe you.” He admitted, and the relief and joy obvious on Erik’s face made his heart clench. There was so much more he wanted to say. _I care for more than just my sister._ Or _, I would marry you in a heartbeat in different circumstances._ Instead, he allowed his cynicism to take over. “I believe you, Erik, but the fact remains that when the King returns, we’ll all be bound by his word.”

“The King can be persuaded.” There, that certainty again. Charles couldn’t hold his tongue any longer and arched a brow- certain of the answer he was about to receive, but curious for Erik’s reaction nonetheless.

“By northern winds?”

For a moment, Erik stared at him in shock. Then, he grinned wolfishly, and Charles felt it was almost insultingly handsome. “Yes, by northern winds.” Erik replied. In those four short words, that single confirmation of an approaching army, Charles felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “They’re particularly icy.” The ice winds of the ice queen.

 So not just Erik committing treason against the King- but the Queen, more involved in the plot than Charles had anticipated. Her questions about appeasement had been tests, not genuine musings. This was a development beyond anything he could have hoped for at the start of the day. He was no closer to seeing his sister, but he was on the same page as Erik and the Queen, at least. When the rebels and the army of the North joined, the King would fall. The kingdom would be free of Shaw, at last.  Charles had never even considered a successful rebellion occurring in his lifetime.

In spite of himself, all the worries and doubts still plaguing him, he grinned back.


	8. Invisible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay.
> 
> Merry Christmas!

“Good Morning, Charles.” The Queen said, glancing up from her tea and smiling that thin, pressed smile at him. She was dressed to perfection, as always. The early hour was nothing to her, it seemed. Outside the sky was only just brightening- Charles felt dead, but Emma looked like angelic radiance.

“Good Morning, Ma’am.” He replied carefully, smiling. Sleep had not come easily to him the night before. As pleased as he had been about the news of the Queen’s army, he was still bound by worries. He’d had no word from Moira, for one, and her safety troubled him ceaselessly. Raven’s training progressed and each day, as he looked closer and noticed more, she seemed less like his little sister and more like a grown warrior. Even her mannerisms were less the lazy, easy-going young woman and more a soldier; a castle educated fighter.

“You look brighter this morning, my good doctor.” She said, as he sat and allowed servants to laden his plate with fine bread and assorted preserves. “Perhaps you have heard the news of my husband’s imminent return?”

He _had_. Ororo had told him when she’d come to wake him earlier that morning. It was sooner than he’d expected, and it hadn’t been the most pleasant news to wake up to – the return of the King meant he’d surely have to be even more careful about what he said, and he doubted Erik would be able to escort him to see his sister so often now. His concerns had been alleviated somewhat by the reaction of everyone around him. Ororo hadn’t seemed perturbed in the slightest, bustling around his room like any other day. When they’d been joined by Jean, she’d seemed equally as calm, asking Ororo about the Queen’s jewellery absently. Only Alex had seemed put out, hurrying Charles to his breakfast. Presumably, the army had the most pressure on them with the King’s return- though Charles didn’t claim to know the true inner workings of the castle. He knew what they _should_ be, but the castle had challenged every single preconception he’d had from the moment he’d entered.

“Yes, ma’am. A successful hunting trip?”

“Cut short, I’m afraid.” Emma said through pursed lips. “News has come in from the East. The rebellion army is picking up pace. It is said they have a new leader.”

He knew the next words to come out of the Queen’s mouth before she even spoke; her face said more than enough- knowing, almost amused.

“Moira McTaggart.”

His mouth went dry, and he took a sip from his goblet with stiff movements. It was only marginally better than shaky hands, and he wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed it. His legs felt weak. _Moira_. Aside from the danger it put him in- she had also put herself in terrible danger too. She was a natural leader, he knew this, but she was no fighter. She wasn’t Raven- she had no experience in battle. She was his friend, she was in a great deal of danger, and he had a horrible feeling it was his fault.

He’d sent her to Robert. She was supposed to have travelled with Robert and the ice traders until the battle was over, no matter the outcome. He should have made sure she was safe and not likely to do anything stupid before he left for the castle.

“The army should reach us before the week is out.”

“I see.” He said, and his voice sounded completely foreign to him.

“I’m sure you do.” She observed him through an arched brow. “Erik and Logan are both preparing the guard. If the King is wise, he will delay the attack for as long as possible by holding out in the castle. It would show the city what a revolt can do to them, if they let it happen.” It was a brutal truth. A rebel army would impose itself on the city too heavily and take up resources already stretched thin. But he knew the real reason- the Queen wanted to delay the attack until her own army could join them from the North. Only then did the rebels have any hope of defeating the King.

Emma looked at him pointedly. “My husband is not known for his tactics, Charles. He will want to charge at the rebels before they approach. This cannot happen.” _If it does, the army will crush the divided rebel groups instantly,_ was the unspoken statement within.

“I understand.” Charles swallowed. There was an anxious pit in his stomach that made him feel distinctly sick. His sister. His sister might be sent to fight against Moira and the army. He had to get word out of the castle- stop the approach, or at least tell them of the Queen’s intentions- somehow, and fast.

“Good. Enough of this, then. I insist you tell me everything about life outside the castle.”

* * *

Charles made his way to the library at a leisurely pace, Alex and Jean walking behind him. He felt rather at odds with what was to come, perhaps because he had no idea what that was. A battle, certainly, but the role he was going to play was unknown. His primary concern was getting word to Moira; to stop her attacking the castle before the Queen’s reinforcements arrived. If he failed that one simple task, he could end up being the single reason the rebellion failed. Of course, logically, that meant he should leave the castle now before the King returned and set out to find Moira himself. But that also meant leaving Raven to the King’s army, and Erik too. He knew he shouldn’t let Erik cloud his judgement, but he couldn’t stop thinking about him either.

“Alexander.”

Charles paused, turning behind him to see Logan hurrying down the corridor after them. Erik’s second was shining with sweat, but there was a fire in his eyes that Charles found eerily similar to the fire of those already fighting. Like women during labour, or children in the instant their tempers snapped and they decided to charge at their provoker.

“Sir?”

“Your brother has decided to disappear again. I’m relieving you of your duties this evening. Find him and set him straight, before I have to. Or worse, Ororo.”

Alex bowed his head slightly to his superior, and then bowed to Charles too, before turning on his heel and hurrying off in the other direction, worry for his brother shadowing his figure. Then again, Charles got the feeling this happened rather often – when he’d met the young Scott, the boy had seemed particularly adventurous, and that tended to result in a disregard for rules. He'd known it all his life, most strongly from his dear Raven. As a child, she'd been equally as restless and keen to see the world. It struck him again how strange it was hat she would flourish in an army of discipline and rules.

“You’d better go too, Grey. The castles run thin now that the King is returning. I’ll see the good Doctor to wherever he’s going.”

Jean smiled knowingly and followed in Alex’s footsteps, disappearing down the corridor without comment on the very blatant attempt to get Charles alone. Nor did Charles, frankly. He didn’t imagine that this was the first time that Logan had used his authority to get people alone that he wanted to.

“Lord Lehnsherr sends his apologies.” Logan paused, clearly fighting back a teasing grin before elaborating. “He’s had to ride out to meet the king and so won’t be able to accompany you to see your sister today. Not that he’d have time to if he were here, anyway. We’re about to go to war.”

“You think the King will send you out immediately?” Charles asked, as they approached the Library doors. His time to act was getting narrower and narrower.

“I’d be surprised if he didn’t.” Logan told him, gruffly. “This is the King we’re talking about, after all. Not that you should be concerned. The castle is the safest place to be right now, and I can think of a fair few people who wouldn’t be impressed if you were to leave.”

Charles didn’t reply for a moment, frowning. If Erik didn’t want him to leave the castle, how was he supposed to get word out. How was he supposed to support the rebellion?

“I’m finding my preconceptions about the castle are all coming true, Sir.” He commented, in a tone as dry as he could muster. It might have been more effective if he hadn’t been so confused. “None who enter the castle are permitted to leave.”

“Yeah, well for once I think you should be grateful you’re inside and not outside the castle. You may be small, but you're one hell of a target now. You’re relatively well off and you’ve never been invisible enough to navigate the city unnoticed. Let alone during a rebellion.” Logan gave an ugly snort. “I have work to attend to. Good day, Doctor.”

“Logan.” Charles replied, blandly, entering the library. Invisible? Who was invisible enough to navigate the city without drawing attention? He took his usual seat by the fire, his books from yesterday still piled on the table. Clearly Jean and Ororo hadn’t had time to clean up after him once word had broken about the King’s return, and not if young Scott had gone missing since then also.

_Invisible_.

He picked one of his books up and turned to the page he'd left it at the previous day, glad of a distraction from this latest task. He had to find someone invisible to get word to Moira to be careful and hold off the attack.Unless he could find a disguise as a blossom collector, clearing the trees of the pink blossoms that were so valuable to medicines, sweets and the rich, he found it highly unlikely he could get into the city at all. No, Logan and Erik didn't want him to leave the castle. That meant sending someone else. Someone invisible, who could pass the guards and the king and the entire city unnoticed. Charles groaned aloud to the empty library. He had no chance.


	9. His Last Act

Charles woke with a start, to the sound of a loud whelp of pain. For a moment he thought he’d imagined it; that it had been the product of some already forgotten nightmare of a patient dying and a child, calling out for their mother. He sat bolt upright, mind reeling as he tried to piece the missing dream together. Then he heard a scraping of stone, and he slid from bed to investigate, wrapping his robe around him and methodically repeating inside his head the arteries best to target if he were under attack. Of course, he didn’t really think he was under attack. It was probably Jean cleaning, or one of the guards come to fetch him for one reason or another. Then again, it was much earlier than he normally woke.

“Who is it?”

He gazed around the half-lit room carefully, and for a moment he almost convinced himself he was being stupid. Then the sound of scraping stone filled the room once more, and he watched in abstract confusion as the grate beside the fire slid out of place and two skinny arms appeared. They clutched at the bedpost, which was used to drag the rest of the boy out. Thick blonde hair, and a sheepish face.

“Scott?” Charles stared, wide-eyed. “You were in my wall. Why were you in my wall?”

“I’m really sorry, Sir. I was coming back into the castle. I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You’re not in trouble with me, Scott, don’t worry.” Even if Charles _had_ been annoyed at the abrupt awakening, which wasn’t true, he thought it would have been impossible to stay mad at the young boy. “Where have you been?” He asked softly, helping the child onto the bed and inspecting his scraped knee carefully. The whelp of pain explained in a single glance. Scott wasn’t crying though, and had a brave look carefully orchestrated on his features, though he winced as Charles’s fingers ghosted his grazes lightly.

“In the city, Sir.” Scott admitted, as Charles fetched his water pitcher and the warm towels from the rack by the fire. “I know I’m not supposed to leave the castle, but the other children play bulldog by the apothecary and I’m not allowed to play here. I’m not supposed to run around.”

“I’m sure,” Charles replied, glancing up at the boy. He took the damp towels and began to clean the grazes carefully. It had only been a few weeks since he’d been out in the city tending to the ill or hurt, but it felt like months now and he revelled in the chance to help, even if it was only something as simple as cut knees. “You’ve had the whole castle worried, you know. How do you get out then? The walls?”

“They’re built apart to trap warm air inside. Lord Lehnsherr told me. I get in through grates and they lead out to the entrance hall. From there, I go down to the stables and out to the city. No-one ever sees me.”

“I see.”

_Invisible_. Charles stared up at the boy, whose leg seemed to have stopped troubling him already, and he was staring in awe at the luxury guest suite he seemed to have found himself in. But of course the kitchen boy and guards brother would go unnoticed. He was a child for one; barely hip height and able to slip through crowds unnoticed. Children were not invisible, just so very common that they walked through their young years unnoticed.

“You play down by the Apothecary, you say?” The Apothecars, who were not just people he worked with closely during his whole life as a Doctor’s son and then a Doctor himself, but who were Moira’s family. It was the whole reason they were friends in the first place; because Moira understood the difficult life that Doctor’s had. How hard socialising was.

“Yes Sir.”

“Do you think you could do me a favour, Scott, and I’ll keep your secret about escaping between the walls?”

“Yes, Sir.” Scott repeated, tentatively.

“I have a message I need delivering to the Apothecary. I’m old friends with their family. But it must be a complete secret, and the letter must be delivered directly to the hands of Mr MacTaggert.”

“I can do that, Doctor!”

* * *

“You seem tense, Sir.” Jean spoke softly, as though she was afraid to startle him, though he was quite perfectly aware of his surroundings. He was listening intently for the sound of scraping stone, or the sound of an army marching through the city. Or even the sound of the King’s imminent return. Either option was going to strike fear into his heart, so it didn’t really matter in the end.

“My apologies if I’m neglecting you, Jean. I have a great deal playing on my mind this evening.”

“No need to apologise, Sir. I only wondered if there’s anything I can do.”

“I’m afraid not, though thank you for the offer. Tell me, has there been any word on Scott Summers?”

“Not that I know, Sir.” Jean told him softly. “The King is expected any time now, and effort are turned to him. Scott disappears every so often, but he usually turns up again sooner or later.” He heard the frown in her tone. “Though he is normally back before now.”

“I see. Perhaps I could take Alexander and ride out to search for him? Surely we wouldn’t be missed by the King for a few hours?”

“I can ask Logan, if you like. Or wait for Lord Lehnsherr to return so he might accompany you.”

“I’d rather go sooner, if at all possible.” Loathe though he was to realise, he couldn’t meet Jean’s eyes. He couldn’t lie to her face and act as though it was only out of concern for the child that he was so anxious, and not his own self-interest. “I’ve spent my life so far looking after children. The idea he might be in danger when I could help…”

“Of course, Doctor. I’ll find Logan for you now.” Jean bowed to him and departed, leaving him with the silence of the room once more.

Despite being a man of science, Charles prayed and prayed that the stone would slide open and Scott would appear at that very moment to alleviate all his fears. He paced the room, both glad to be alone and terrified of it. The whole world seemed to be crushing down on him, and there seemed to be no easy way out. The king was returning to send his army out to crush the rebels; the Queen’s army had not yet made it to them, and both Moira and Raven were about to be caught in a battle against each other with no idea who they were fighting against, or even why.

“Charles!” The door was flung open without a knock, and Ororo entered. It was most unlike the woman he’d come to know. She took her role with responsibility and, however often he’d told her to call him Charles, she’d normally always used his title. Nor had she ever burst into his quarters before without knocking. “The King has returned; you must come at once!”

He followed her retreating figure immediately, the panic she showed clenching around his lungs unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Ororo was usually so calm and composed, but this was a storm raging, and she seemed to be the heart of it. He hurried after her, down stone corridors and winding staircases, until he reached the courtyard. It was busier than he’d ever seen it; the King’s household lined up to greet his return. The carriages and horses were surrounded by servants collecting luggage, bustling around what seemed to be the Army and the Royal guard all lined up facing the King, stood by his carriage. To his left stood the Queen. Much to Charles’ horror, she looked scared. Pallid and, if he wasn’t mistaken, shaking steadily. He’d diagnose it as an anxiety attack if he wasn’t so scared to admit that something was terribly wrong. Only the cracked Ice Queen wasn’t the only problem his eyes sought. To the King’s right, Erik stood as Adonis as he had been when they first met. Only now he was pale too, and his eyes were too bright with fear as he stared at Charles, as though trying to convey all the information that he might need to survive what was to come.

Charles struggled to swallow his nerves. He didn’t know what was to come, and seeing even Erik looking so scared was making his chest hurt even worse, and his hands trembled, and his legs seemed to weaken beneath him. No- alright- he was the one having an anxiety attack. He inhaled sharply, and Ororo’s hand wrapped around his wrist to squeeze it comfortingly. It did little to help, however, as next to Erik stood Scott. Young, small and ever so frightened. There were heavy iron chains around his skinny wrists and though he had every right to be denouncing Charles and crying, he was instead silent and stood tall and proud.

“Imagine my surprise, my subjects, when I travel through the city and spot a castle boy delivering a message to the family of the leader of the rebel army.” Charles’s breath hitched again. He didn’t believe for a moment that King Shaw would recognise a castle boy like Scott, but someone clearly had done, and now poor Scott was paying the price. There was blood on his clothes, and Charles felt sick at the thought of whatever on-site punishment was handed out for his treachery to the King.

“Now little Summers here won’t say who sent the letter, so I expect the traitor in my castle to step forward. You might even find lenience in an early confession.” The words were like play things on Shaw’s lips, and his eyes sparkled with a mirth that made even Charles’ trembling hands clench into fists. Shaw would not keep his promise, there was no doubt about that. Beside him, the Queen was staring blankly at the crowd. Regret was etched onto her face in a way Charles could never have imagined, no matter how often she had challenged his preconceptions of her already. Then there was Erik, whose back seemed to straighten further as the King spoke. His eyes locked with Charles’ once again in a silent instruction to keep his mouth shut, and a fire burned behind those glassy eyes that was no longer certainly fear. There was rage there too.

“Tell me, traitor.” Shaw said, cold and loud. “Step forward and denounce yourself. For every hour you do not, your little accomplice will lose a limb.”

Even the army, trained to perfection to not show emotion, to stand stoic and brave and compliant, even they seemed to flinch at the punishment- the blackmail. It was nothing to the slowing down of time that Charles felt. This was it; this was his end. He couldn’t stand idly by in silence any longer, whilst a child bore the punishment of his own crime. Scott looked strong still, head up and eyes forward. But Alexander stepped out of the guard’s line, his pleas indistinct and buzzing in Charles’ ear. His foot moved forward and, for an eternal moment, Erik looked at him. The world around him was disintegrating, but Charles would die a traitor because there was nothing else to be done. Not even Erik’s eyes, beseeching and soul-searching, could stop him. This was his fault. All his fault- everything, he should have stayed away- stayed far away like Moira had asked him-

His foot hit the floor unsteadily, but he propelled himself forwards anyway, Ororo’s grip on his arm slipping away. This was the right thing to do. His last act would redeem him, he hoped. He had sent Scott with that letter, and he would take responsibility for it. He would die to save just one more child. He took another step.


	10. The Fool

_His foot hit the floor unsteadily, but he propelled himself forwards anyway, Ororo’s grip on his arm slipping away. This was the right thing to do. His last act would redeem him, he hoped. He had sent Scott with that letter, and he would take responsibility for it. He would die to save just one more child. He took another step._

“CHARLES?!”

He must have been dreaming. Must have been hallucinating, because this couldn’t truly be real. His sisters voice should have been music to his ears- should have been a sweet, delighted reunion after their time apart. Instead, it was just her gut wrenching cry. His baby sister was stood amongst her fellow soldiers against all odds. Why, Charles thought desperately, he couldn’t understand. Why were they allowed in the vicinity of each other only now, when he had to confess to treason? Only now, when she might watch him die. He stared at her, eyes scrambling around her face, to take in every detail. In their time apart, she’d seemed to have matured. The round faced young woman seemed leaner, now, and older. But the fear in her eyes contrasted so painfully, and he remembered just how young she was. His darling baby sister. The girl he’d tried to raise well and confidently.

He kept his eyes trained on her for as long as he could, as her fellow soldiers restrained her within the ranks, preventing her from running to him. Her confusion was evident- she truly had no idea he’d come after her, and now it was too late.

“Step forward, traitor, or we’ll start with the boy’s right hand.” Shaw spoke again, blatantly ignoring the Xavier reunion. If he'd planned this for his own amusement, to put them together, it didn't seem to have worked. The King's movements were manic, quite mad, and he grabbed at Scott’s cuffed wrists to present them to the crowd.

And then Charles was shoved sideways suddenly, with force, into the rest of the crowd around him. He cried out, stumbling and falling until Ororo’s secure grip had him steady once again. She caught him with the strength he should have expected from her, and stood him up straight again with as much dignity as she could give him. He regained his senses, just in time to see Logan, Erik’s right hand, move to the clearing in the courtyard. Each step was calculated and purposeful. He stood before the King with his head held high. Charles stared, mouth open, until he thought he might be sick.

“I sent the boy.” Logan lied, for all to hear. “Death to you, _my King_.” He spat, contempt dripping from his words. In doing so, he had saved Charles’ life and condemned himself to a traitor’s death. Charles realised this instantly, his head spinning with distraught agony. Raven was still calling for him, but he couldn’t even turn his head to console her, too transfixed on the sight of Erik stepping forward and shackling with friend. There was no remorse in Erik’s eyes, and Charles had to remind himself that it was an act. Erik had said himself, they were as good as brothers. The idea that he was willingly arresting Logan was barbaric- he did it only to delay the inevitable. Erik handed a silent Logan over to his men, and he was dragged away from the courtyard. The older man didn’t speak another word, allowing himself to be taken away with all the brutality one might expect from Shaw’s men. Then, more guards stepped forward, and Scott was escorted away also. Thin legs trailed after him, scrambling to find a footing. The courtyard was a cacophony of Raven and Alex and Charles’ shouts, and there seemed to be nothing else in the world but pain and gut-wrenching agony. Erik was staring at him and everything was happening too quickly, too much. He wanted it to end, to die even, if only to escape this situation immediately. He was a coward. If he had just condemned Logan and young Scott to death, he couldn’t live with himself.

“SILENCE.” Shaw’s voice, louder than all, triggered an impossible rage within Charles. It was a feeling he hadn’t thought himself capable of before, but not now. He had never killed out of hate before, but he would do. “When MacTaggert and her army arrive, I will have the pleasure of informing her that her parents have suffered the price of her insolence already.” The agony only ever seemed to get worse, even when he felt nothing else could possibly touch him. He’d gotten Moira’s family killed… “Tomorrow evening, at sunset, the boy and the traitor will hang. Anyone else who wishes to defy me,” His eyes seemed to skirt over Charles then, and perhaps towards Alex too who had stopped crying for his brother, though he was certainly trembling with anger, “May suffer the same end.” Eloquent little speech over, the King grabbed his Queen’s arm and strode out of the courtyard, tugging her with him cruelly.

Erik addressed the crowd then, standing forward and regaining some sort of high-ranking composure. “From this moment on, consider the castle at war. First battalion, to your posts. The rest of you to the training courtyard.”

The army began to file out steadily, the weight of what was to come resting heavy on their shoulders. Charles watched them, almost numb to the word, as his sister was escorted away by her peers. She looked back repeatedly, trying to get him to speak or explain or anything in those few brief seconds. Instead he stared at her, mouth closed, because even if he could think of what he wanted to say, he didn’t think he could open his mouth without throwing up. Scott was to hang. Logan was to hang. Moira’s family, who might otherwise have escaped all this battling, were dead. It was all his fault.

“Doctor Xavier, you must come at once.” Erik was suddenly beside him, and Ororo was gone. The courtyard was dispersing rapidly, but Charles still didn’t think he could move. His limbs were frozen in a way he’d never before experienced, locked into place. “Charles, listen to me. The boy won’t hang; I won’t let it happen. But you must come inside, quickly.”

The words kick-started his legs, finally, and Charles unsteady headed for the direction of the exit, Erik’s hand on the small of his back to guide him in the right direction. Not another word was spoken as they moved through the castle to the closest library, which Erik ushered him into quickly. He collapsed onto the chair provided, and Erik kneeled before him with far less professionalism than he’d ever displayed before. Today, it seemed, was not a day to follow protocol.

“Charles- Charles look at me.”

“This is my fault, Erik. I should never have sent him. I was a fool.”

“No, Charles. If anyone is the fool here, it’s me.” Erik corrected him sharply. “I’m sure you’re already aware that Logan, the Queen and I have rather been manipulating you. We needed you to get a message to MacTaggert. We told you to choose someone invisible and you did. It was unlucky that one of the guards recognised Scott, but it is not your fault. It is mine and mine alone. I should never have put you in that position.”

“All these riddles and lies,” Charles said quietly. This was a man who he rather thought he wanted to spend the rest of his life with; the idea that none of it was real, that Erik had only been using him, was gut-wrenching. “Tell me, Lord Lehnsherr, what is going to happen now?”

Erik flinched at the sudden reverting to use of his title, and though he’d meant it to hurt, Charles couldn’t help but feel guilty. It was just another dagger in his chest, making breathing so impossible.

“I swear to you, Doctor, that I will protect you. Your sister, also, and the Summers'.” Erik paused, bowing his head lightly. “My attitude to you has not been falsified. I told you that I could not marry you if it were orchestrated by Shaw, but I was lying. I think I could marry you in any circumstances, so long as I got to keep you. But not now. If there was no rebellion, no war, I think you might be happy here. But now your happiness is subject to the fate of the others, and I won’t detain you, Charles. I won’t watch this castle drain the life out of you too.”

“Erik.”

“We never got to play that game of chess.” Erik interrupted, with a laugh that was punctuated by a sob. “But my tactics haven’t worked yet, so that’s probably for the best.” He was speaking like a man already dead.

The daggers in Charles’ chest slipped out, replaced by a vice that was tightening excruciatingly around him. “Erik.” He repeated, tears cascading and hands wandering up to Erik’s stubble marred face. He’d clearly had no time to shave whilst escorting the King, and he looked so dreadfully tired. “I insist that we play when this is all over.”

“Forgive me, Charles, I’m aware that there are people in danger and the world is falling apart around us, but if I don’t kiss you now I don’t think I’ll be able to lift my sword in battle at all.” The unspoken remained as painfully clear as ever. Erik didn’t want to die without having kissed Charles. It was a terrifying sentiment, wrapped in charming flirtation.

“In that case, Lord Lehnsherr… a token of my faith in you.” Charles leaned forwards and placed a chaste kiss against the man’s lips. He stilled for a moment, hands winding into hair he didn’t think he’d ever have opportunity to touch. This was barbaric. War was coming, and they were sat in a secluded library acting like teenagers in tragedy plays.

Then Erik’s lips responded suddenly, and hands pulled at his waist and tugged him as close as he could get. A tongue traced his lips and he gave way to a passion that he’d only ever seen in Erik’s eyes before. Now, though, he felt it at every point that their bodies touched. It wasn’t enough, nothing was close enough or deep enough. It certainly didn’t last long enough. It was brief and desperate, yes, but it had felt rather like a promise to Charles.

“I have to attend to my army.” Erik sighed heavily. “In a few minutes, go to the cells and demand to tend to Scott. The dungeon master is a good man, I’m sure he’ll let you treat the child’s wounds. I’ll meet you there with Raven and Alexander, and from there I’ll escort you to safety.”

“What about Ororo and Jean,” Charles asked, standing on legs that finally seemed strong enough to take his weight. The girls had quickly become his friends, and they had protected him from the ways of the castle repeatedly during his stay. He wouldn’t leave them to the battle now. “And Logan? Why did he confess, Erik? It was not his punishment to accept.”

“Logan is no fool, my good Doctor.” Charles smiled at the endearment now. “His imprisonment is of no consequent. He’ll be out before sunrise and will join the rebels in their fight. As for the girls, you might be able to convince Jean, but Ororo will stay to fight.”

But, of course, they both knew Charles would attempt to convince her otherwise. Ororo was the closest thing to a mother he’d ever known, and whilst he was sure she could fight as well as any trained soldier, he wouldn’t want to lose her now.

“I’ll be missed.” Erik said, smoothing down his hair half-heartedly. “I’ll see you soon, Charles. Be careful, and take your time. The King is in a bad mood, and if you give him reason, he _will_ turn against you. Past lenience cannot be relied on now.”

“I understand.”

Erik attempted a smile and bowed his head at him courteously, as though they hadn’t been kissing just moments before. With that, he became the respectable senior marshal and head of the Royal Guard once again. Each stride he took was with purpose, and the posture of a man who knew just how much he was worth. As beautiful as he was, the gravity of the situation fell onto Charles’ shoulders once again. He waited only a minute before hurrying out after Erik and heading to his quarters to retrieve Jean and Ororo. He had ten minutes to collect all the people he’d grown to care for in the castle, and then meet up with the man he loved and his sister to somehow escape. He only hoped that Erik had a plan because, as of that morning, he rather thought he was in the middle of some sort of fever dream.

 


	11. The Child

The castle was seemingly as quiet as it ever had been. The soldiers and guards seemed to have moved into their positions already, and the inner corridors themselves were just as cold and quiet as they were the day Erik first escorted him to his quarters. It was presumably beneficial to be that way, so intruders could be heard and dealt with quickly. Luckily, though Charles wasn’t exactly the most graceful of beings - nowhere near Erik’s physical prowess - he was, at least slight, and light on his feet. He made no sound as he moved to his quarters, but made sure to walk as though he belonged there. Arrogance, he’d found, was the mother guard to any predicament. If a soldier did happen to stumble upon him, he had no reason to raise suspicion. He was Charles Xavier, Doctor of the City. For now, at least, he was as safe as he could really be.

He arrived at his quarters quickly, entering to find himself face to face with both Jean and Ororo. The women looked as calm as they could be, and yet as though they were ready to defend themselves also. Charles was sure the heavy iron sculptures near them hadn’t ever been there before, and they would make suspiciously good weapons should they be needed.

“Doctor Xavier!” Jean’s tone was one of hushed delight. “Oh thank god, I thought you were in trouble.”

“No, no, Jean. I apologise for the delay.” He looked to Ororo then, and the woman had a knowing look on her face. She observed him as though she could see right through him, and he almost believed that might be possible in this case. “A battle is coming to the castle. It is my intention to retrieve Scott from the dungeons and leave. I want you both to come with me.”

“What?” Jean replied, panicked already. Her counterpart seemed neither surprised or bored, just accepting. “Sir- the castle is surely much safer than out there! I can’t leave- the Queen-"

“Jean, I understand but-"

“Jean.” Ororo interrupted him swiftly, placing her hands on either side of the girl’s neck. “Your duty is to the Doctor, now. You will go with him and do as he asks. I will attend to the Queen.”

“But-" Jean fell silent with a single look from her mentor. “Very well.”

“Excellent. Ororo, are you sure I can’t persuade you?”

“No, sir.” Ororo smiled at him, and then made her way into his bedroom. When she emerged, it was with his satchel he’d brought with him the day he’d come to the castle, mostly empty but reassuring to see nonetheless. “Good luck, Doctor.”

Charles nodded solemnly. “Good luck, Ororo. And thank you, for everything.”

The corridor was eerily empty still, as they began the descent to the Dungeons. Jean followed him loyally, as instructed, and that was his first little victory. He only hoped that everything else went according to plan. As apprehensive as he was about what was to come, he didn’t fear for Ororo too greatly. She was perhaps the most competent person he’d ever met, and she couldn’t possibly get into too much trouble if she stayed out of the way. All he had to think about now was young Scott, who he’d put through hell – no matter how much Erik insisted it wasn’t his fault – and Raven.

Jean showed him down to parts of the castle he’d never been before, through dark corridors lit sparsely by flickering candles. It contradicted with the castle he’d known so far in a startling manner. His quarters - the courtyards and balconies and libraries - were all vast and bright. This part of the castle was narrow and damp, and the dripping wax and creaking doors were ominous. What horrified Charles the most was just how many prisoners were trapped in the small cells; skeletal and weak- so weak they didn’t even lift their heads from the rags they were laying on to view the new visitors. Charles suddenly felt sickly ashamed of his fine clothes. Had he known he was sleeping soundly above this- -

“Doctor Xavier?”

Charles was almost relieved when he approached the dungeon to see the guard there was one he recognised. Darwin, he recalled.

“I tried to return to my quarters, but I’m afraid my mind is unsettled. I wish to treat the Summers boy. May his last night by free from pain.” It was a sad game of reason, and the words tasted bitter. There was no other excuse, besides knocking the guard unconscious and preceding into the chamber anyway. He wanted to ask after Logan, to ensure he was safe also, but that would truly have been unwise.

“I’m not sure the King will be pleased, Sir, but as he _is_ a child. I’m good friends with his older brother.” Darwin sighed heavily, and procured his keys to open the door before them.

“Thank you.” Charles bowed his head slightly, and moved forward until the guard held his hand out forcefully.

“Just you, I’m afraid Doctor. The maid will have to remain out here.”

“I may well require assistance, and the boy will be comforted to see a familiar face.”

“Even so.” Darwin said.

“It’s alright, Sir. I’ll wait for you out here.” Jean smiled at him simply. He almost groaned- this was exactly what she wanted- to not have to leave. Her loyalty to the Queen and Ororo was commendable, and he did understand. If only reluctantly. He nodded anyway, unwilling to rouse suspicion, and entered the chamber alone. The door closed behind him ominously, locking.

Scott was sat in the farthest corner, knees drawn tightly to his chest and head buried to them. There was no denying how very small he looked; how very young. And yet he still wasn’t crying. His small frame didn’t shake with sobs, and not even his torn up legs seemed position in a manner he might find some relief from the pain. In hindsight, Charles hadn’t been dissimilar at that age. The ability to ask for help was something he’d never really perfected, though he was far too experienced in crying since Raven had left him.

“Scott?”

The boy looked up, all wide eyes and fear. Charles had no idea how anyone, King or Guard, could live with leaving the child to die like this.

“Scott, I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m alright, Sir. I think my ankle is sprained, but it’s just scrapes aside from that. Is my brother alright?”

“He was when I saw him last, Scott, don’t exert yourself now. Your strength may well be required later.” Although what good an eleven-year old with a sprained ankle would do was beyond Charles. Still, he fell silent for a moment as he assessed the child’s ankle and the many cuts and scrapes of his poor legs. He didn’t actually have any bandages with him; he’d left them all at the manor for the people of the city of use, and so he resorted to tearing a strip off the shirt he wore. The material was quite stretchy, anyway, and as clean as it could be. “I am so sorry, Scott.” He repeated, as he began to wrap the ankle. “If I’d thought about the danger.”

“You may not have, Sir, but I did.” Scott replied simply. “I know you’re working with Lord Lehnsherr and my brother and Ororo,” The pride had returned, and Scott was simply a boy still. A child - a kitchen boy, eager to please his superiors and willing to copy anything his big brother did simply because he found it impressive. “And I wanted to help. It was my own fault for walking down the main road anyway. I didn’t think they’d notice me.”

_Invisible._ Charles almost laughed. “Yes, I rather understand Scott. Come on, try putting some weight on that ankle.” He helped the boy up and, though he winced at the step he took, he could indeed walk. It was a bittersweet relief in the hailstorm of terror around them, and almost eased some of the guilt that Charles felt. Guilt could be felt later, when they were out of danger for good.

With almost perfect timing, Charles heard voices out in the dungeon. It was easy to pick out Erik’s, loud and commanding. He spoke like a King, even if his words were indistinguishable in their little chamber. Charles drew Scott close to his side, waiting for the door to be opened once again. Instead, Scott flinched against him to a terrible racket and a scream, which sounded far too much like Jean for Charles’ liking. Then there was a thud. Charles had watched men and women die before; he’d heard the sound of dead weight hitting the ground. It was a sound that haunted his nightmares. Now it was reality. Scott held his hand tightly, and they waited for the door to open.


	12. Conflicting Interests

_Charles drew Scott close to his side, waiting for the door to be opened once again. Instead, Scott flinched against him to a terrible racket and a scream, which sounded far too much like Jean for Charles’ liking. Then there was a thud. Charles had watched men and women die before; he’d heard the sound of dead weight hitting the ground. It was a sound that haunted his nightmares. Now it was reality. Scott held his hand tightly, and they waited for the door to open._

“My _god_.”

Erik’s voice was music to his ears. The door swung open slowly, revealing poor Darwin lying unconscious on the ground. Not dead- no blood, no injuries. Relief washed over him, and then he looked up again to reassess the situation. Not Erik’s victory- Jean’s. The small woman was grinning wickedly at her own skill, and flexing her fist out stiffly. Perhaps a slight bloody injury, then.

“Have you considered a life in the regiment, Miss Grey?” Erik asked, awe-struck as he stared at Darwin’s unconscious form.

Jean flushed lightly at what Charles knew was a markedly high compliment from Erik, and shook her head resolutely. “Violence is only the answer when Charles is in danger, Sir.”

“I shouldn’t argue, Lord Lehnsherr.” Charles spoke up, almost teasing, and was rewarded by the glittering eyes of Erik finding him in the dark of the cell. They held eye contact for only a brief moment, before Alex pushed past his superior to get to his younger brother. Reunited, Alex held the boy tightly to him.

“Is he alright, Doctor?”

“He is far stronger than he ought to be, Alex. He can walk on his ankle, but strenuous activity is ill-advised. If possible, he should be carried.”

“Alright.” Alexander picked the boy up effortlessly, hauling him onto his back so that Scott could wind his arms around his neck.

“Where’s Raven?”

“She wouldn’t come, Charles. The moment she heard MacTaggert was fighting, she refused me. She instructed that I escort you safely from the castle, but I believe I might find difficulty there also.”

“Stubbornness runs in the family.” Charles whispered, the ghost of a smile still etched onto his features as shock washed over him again. He had to fight. He, Charles Xavier, a man who healed, was now to kill. And it was all his fault. If he’d listen to Erik in the first place, kept his head down, left the castle- not come in the first place, then they wouldn’t be in this mess.

“In that case…” Erik nodded at him firmly. He was not going to argue and send Charles away, thankfully. If he had done, Charles wasn’t sure what he would have done. “Alexander, you will escort Miss Grey and your brother off the premises. You will remain with them until the siege is over, am I understood?”

Somewhere in the distance, a horn was blowing. Battle, Charles thought. That was the sound that other nations trembled to hear- the knowledge that Genosha, the tyrant King Shaw, was coming to take everything from them, and there was nothing they could do.

“Yes, my Lord.”

That was not all of it, Charles knew. He could practically hear Jean’s sweet tones enraged suddenly, demanding she be allowed to stay and fight. She had just proven she could, after all. And yet, she remained silent. She bowed her head to him slightly, and to Erik, and then followed the brother back out of the chamber.

“They will be safe, won’t they?” Charles asked.

“I don’t doubt it. There are routes through this castle that the maids and soldiers know that not even the King is aware of. Alex intends to head in a monk’s tunnel beneath the castle, towards the city.”

“I see. And of us?”

“The rebels are on the castle now. The horn sounds the march of the first troops. I should be out there with them.” Erik frowned, clearly conflicted. He was the head marshal and head of the royal guard, to an army he’d been training for years and years. Now he had abandoned them for a rebel army and, more precisely at that moment, for Charles. “Here,” He reached his hands beneath his cloak and tore a strip of white fabric away. He then took the fabric and wrapped it around Charles’ arm, forming a white armlet. “It signifies your medical status. It is good etiquette not to kill physicians; there are too few of you. That makes you rare and valuable.”

“And what about you?”

“I have survived a dozen armies since my accession to this rank, Charles, I should fully expect to survive one more.”

Only Erik’s smile was tempered, and Charles didn’t fully believe him. For one, while Charles might have evidently been a Doctor, there was nothing to suggest Erik was a rebel. If there was, his own army would kill him. Somehow, he had to make it through a battlefield playing the double agent. The danger was choking, and yet they didn’t have time to think on it.

“In another life, Charles, I’d have married you the moment the King commanded it.”

“Then I am glad this is not another life, Erik. I will marry you of my own free will when the King is dead.” Said Charles, firmly. He took the initiative to reach forward and kiss Erik once again, chaste and slow, until he could hear distant shouting in the castle.

“We should go. Good luck, my friend.”

“And you.”


	13. Long Live The Queen

Erik wielded a sword as naturally as he’d ever seen anyone, as though the metal was merely an extension of his own arm. His command of movement and the consistency of his strength was unparalleled, even in the hundreds of soldiers around them. He was without remorse in cutting down anyone who dared to challenge them, but otherwise quick on his feet and spry as they negotiated the courtyard, trying to find either Raven or the King or Moira- anyone to progress this bloody battle to its end. Charles was ignored for the most part. The white band on his arm was as good as any shield- Erik was right. He ducked and dived as appropriate, but Erik fought on their behalf. Charles was glad. He was not a murderer. It took everything he had to not stop for every fallen soldier who called to him for aid.

“Charles, look!” Erik’s voice was breathless, shoving his elbow backwards into an attacker. “Raven-!”

Charles followed his gaze instantly, and saw his sister cornered by three rebels. Of course she was- she was dressed head to toe in castle protocol armour. She was a natural enemy to the rebels. Her leg was bleeding profusely, but she was stood still and brandishing her sword unwaveringly. Despite her injury, Charles almost froze for a moment. He’d seen her in training, from a distance, but nothing had prepared himself for the reality of his sister in battle. Her face was stone, and she held her sword high with unwavering vigour- even as outnumbered as she was. Then, before he had really processed it, he was wielding his own sword with far less skill than she or Erik- who was now guarding them valiantly in a fight with one of his own men. Charles was a Doctor, however, and he knew how to make a man fall to his knees. Knew how to make one bleed to death. Knew how to cause irreparable damage. So, it seemed, did Raven. She had picked up a few things from aiding him in his work then, it seemed.

“Charles!” She recognised him quickly, rendering her final rebel attacker unconscious from a blow to the back of the head.

“Raven, oh-“ He grabbed her forearms tightly, lowering her onto a fallen stone bench. The wound on her thigh was a stab wound- not a sword, not wide enough or deep enough, but a dagger or knife perhaps. “You silly girl.” He pressed a kiss to her hairline. “I’ve missed you so much, my sister.”

“I should hope so, idiot.” Raven replied deftly, falling silent with a wince when he tore yet another strip of fabric from his shirt and tied it around her leg to cease the blood flow. The wound was one he could fix, easily, but they had to get her out of harm’s way first. Had to find Robert and Moira, and then kill the King- wherever that coward had taken to.

“Charles- what are you doing here?”

“I came after you. I came after you weeks ago.” He held her hand tightly, and tried to ignore how limp her own grip was. “The King wouldn’t let you see me, but I saw you. I’m so proud of you. And Erik is going to kill the King, darling. We need to find Moira.”

“Erik?” Raven repeated blankly, and then her eyes shifted to just above his left shoulder. “Moira.”

Charles turned sharply, head spinning. The courtyard was a mess, not training ground any longer but battlefield. The Army stood all around, outnumbering the rebels massively and yet stationary in their positions, swords held still as though frozen in time. To the right, Moira and Robert stood tall, and at their feet kneeled Erik, face bleeding, with a knife to his throat.

“Moira, no!” Charles staggered to his feet again, letting Raven slip from his grasp. “Moira!”

“Charles, stay back.” Robert told him firmly. “This man is the only leverage we have right now.”

“He isn’t leverage! Stop this!” He raced to the rebels, unheeded by the men and women defending the rebel leaders. Not the Queen’s rebels. Moira’s rebels. Moira’s rebels who didn’t know any better- didn’t know what Erik and the Queen had orchestrated.

“Moira, I swear to you, Erik is neither a defender of the King, nor worth any regard in the King’s eyes. He’s disposable to them, but he isn’t to me!”

“He’s the marshal and head of the royal guard, Charles. Do you hear yourself?” Robert replied blandly, but Moira at least seemed to be listening to him. She watched him closely, as though judging his behaviour against everything she had ever known of him.

“Let him go.” She said, quietly but without wavering. “I trust Charles with my life, and if he trusts the King’s right hand man then we have no choice but to also. For now, mind.” She added, menacingly, to Erik as he was released.

Erik nodded solemnly, and addressed his guard as the leader he was. “You have served your King in hell, out of duty, or debt, or leverage. The time for change has come. The Queen’s Rebels will join us from the north momentarily. You can join me, and the rebels, and help us rid this kingdom of Shaw for good- or you can fight against us, and be slaughtered in your masses. I trained each and every one of you. I know precisely how to defeat you, should I need to.”

Charles stepped up, head spinning as the swords began to lower nervously. “You are under no obligation to fight at all, any longer. Should you wish to, you can use the monk’s passage beneath the castle to safety. The Summers’ boys will be waiting there, and medical assistance or safe passage can be ascertained at that point.”

Erik’s eyes met him with nothing less than complete pride, and a sort of smile that suggested perhaps he’d expected Charles to say nothing other than that which he had.

“Moira, help me get Raven to safety?” He asked the make-shift rebel leader. For a moment she deliberated. But they both knew she had only join the rebellion- only served as an image to follow to get to the castle and find Charles. Neither of them wanted to fight, and both of them cared more for Raven.

She nodded slowly, acquiescing, and with one last meaningful glance to Erik, he ducked back down the steps to retrieve his sister. She had paled dramatically, even in the few minutes they’d been apart, and her eyes were heavy-lidded and unfocused.

“Have to fight- Charles.” She murmured to him. “ _You_ won’t-"

“You’re quite right, darling.” He smiled, locking his arms around her as Moira picked up her feet and proceeded to dart through the re-convening army. “Violence is only the answer when _you_ are in danger.” He paraphrased Jean’s earlier sentiment, fondly. “And when your leg is healed, you can go back to the army if you wish. I don’t believe there is a thing I could say to prevent you.”

“M’not a child, Charles.”

“Yes, I know that now.” They moved out of the courtyard, down into the deserted castle depths, until he heard his name being called.

“Charles!”

“Ororo?” He started, twisting his head to the sound. “What are you doing here?”

“The Queen had business to attend,” She replied grimly. “Come, this way. The laundry room.” She led them a little way down the corridor, opening a door into a room that Charles hadn’t even considered existed in the castle. How privileged he was to forget that the King and Queens and nobility wouldn’t exactly clean their own clothes. But the room itself was perfectly equipped for treating Raven- clean, with plenty of materials and sewing supplies.

“Do you know what’s happening- out there?” He heard Moira asked, urgently, as he assessed the wound in question and began gathering the things he would need. Moira helped- her own knowledge as an Apothecars daughter surfacing seamlessly.

“The rebels have convened. The Royal Guard are all that remain to protect the King. They might join Erik, but they have been treated in higher regard than the army. Their loyalties are uncertain as of yet. They will be defeated, anyway. I expect a great deal before midnight, also.”

“Tomorrow will be kinder.” Raven said softy, and then her teeth gritted against the pain of Charles’ ministrations. There were no sedatives available in the laundry room, not even any stashed alcohol that Ororo could find. Raven was strong, strong and brave and so beautiful. His sister, who he was finally protecting in the only way he knew how. They only way he’d ever been able to- fixing all the scrapes and cuts she’d received in her restless adventures.

The world faded away, and the neatness of his stitches was the only thing that consumed Charles in those absent minutes. He cleaned the last of the blood away with a damp cloth, one of the King’s shirts, he thought triumphantly. The wound was bandaged with clean strips of fabric, and Raven managed to sip down some water. After a while, the world around them returned to Charles. In the distance, he heard shouting. Despite this, Raven seemed to have drifted off into a gentle unconsciousness, still pale and in pain. She needed a bed, and sugar, and something to ease the pain.

“One of us should go and find out the progress of the rebellion.” He said blandly. “I’ll go now.” Only, as he’d volunteered both Moira and Ororo had similarly offered to be the one to go out.

“Charles, you came here for Raven. You can’t leave her now.” Moira pointed out gently.

“She is safe, now. Why shouldn’t I go? There are other people fighting up there that I care for- Robert and Erik and the Queen herself.”

“And you would put yourself in danger- risk distracting them, for what?”

Charles gritted his own teeth, attempting to hush his irritation. “I’m a doctor, Moira. I should be up there- helping. I can take these fabrics- make bandages.”

“Anyone can tie a bandage, Charles. We’ve all done that in our time. Your services would be much better saved for in the havoc after the King is dead- when the truly injured require aid.”

Their arguing was cut short, as the door swung open. Moira and Ororo both stood, swords raised against the intruder, defending Charles and Raven without hesitation or question. Behind the door, a guard stepped out- unarmed and hands held aloft. Charles recognised him as one of his own guards from when he’d first arrived at the castle.

“Stand down, ladies. He’s one of Erik’s men.”

The women glared suspiciously for a further long moment, clearly asserting their dominance on the young, nervous man. Finally, they stepped back, neither really lowering their sword enough to cease being absolutely terrifying.

“Thank you, Sir.” The guard- Sean, said breathily. He dragged uncertain eyes away from Ororo and Moira, and looked to Charles gratefully. “Lord Lehnsherr sent me, Sir. The King is dead. Long live the Queen.”


	14. Beyond the War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around so long and reading!  
> Constructive criticism always welcome.

“Lord Lehnsherr sent me, Sir. The King is dead.”

Charles felt his heart leap. Erik was alive and the King was dead. Raven was safe, and so was he, and Ororo and Jean and Scott and Alex. They were going to be okay.

“He is currently in discussions with the east rebels and the Queen’s rebels about the progression of events from this point onwards.” Sean continued, straining to remember his instruction. “He said I should escort you to the infirmary, and then yourself and Miss MacTaggert would be required in the discussions.” Sean coughed nervously. “He also instructed me to remind you that now the King is dead, you have promised to marry him.”

Charles laughed out loud, the feeling almost foreign to his own ears. “Yes. Yes, I believe I have. In that case, we should-“

“What? Charles, you’re engaged? To the King’s right hand?” Moira asked, eyes both wide and somehow angry and suspicious at the same time. It was a remarkable feat that Charles was sure no-one else on earth would be able to copy. Behind her, Ororo looked proud as any mother hen could, smiling at him and Moira’s shock. “What on earth is going on? How are you sure this guard can be trusted?”

“He is right, Miss MacTaggert.” Ororo said confidently. “Sean is as loyal to Erik as any soldier could be, and Erik is as smitten with Charles as any man could be.”

“I see. Well, I still require more answers than that. But for now, let’s get to this infirmary, shall we?”

* * *

Charles’s footfalls reverberated as he approached the hall, content in the knowledge that his sister was being seen to, and was no longer in any danger at all. He felt oddly distant still, even as the knowledge that the King was dead repeated over and over in his mind. He couldn’t quite process it- hadn’t been there to witness Shaw’s demise. Yet, he wouldn’t have been anywhere else- nor trusted anyone but Erik to assure him that everything was going to be alright.

“Miss MacTaggert.” The Queen addressed Moira first, and his friend stepped to his side quietly. Then the Queen’s eyes fell on him, and he stared back at her just as deeply. “My dearest Doctor.”

“My Queen.” He replied softly, highly aware of Moira’s flinch of indignation. She had yet to understand the goings on in the castle- hadn’t met the Queen- couldn’t possibly understand that this was not the Ice Queen’s fault. The Queen was, in fact, just as scared as anyone. The icy façade was just that, and the woman beneath was cunning and clever and downright magnetic.

“I want you to know, both of you, that I appreciate the role you played this day. Through your efforts, you ensured the King is dead.”

“Long live the Queen.” Charles said softly.

“I’m afraid not, Sir.” Emma said quietly. “I have no desire for this tainted reign anymore, if I ever did. It is my intention to endorse Lord Lehnsherr as Ambassador of this realm. And, when you are married, you will inherit my throne.”

“I see.” His own voice sounded distant, and his head had regained that peculiar fuzziness that had seldom left him since word of the King’s return. It was lucky that Erik, stood to their left and seemingly uninjured, had greater understanding of the words the Queen spoke.

“Your majesty, this is barbaric. You will be a fair ruler, and I would not marry Charles under order.”

“Not order, Erik, never. This is not a condition or an instruction. It is merely fact. I will retain the crown through these troubling times. And when you are settled. When you are at peace, and your legacy is secure, then I shall bestow upon you the rewards that you deserve.”

“We do not deserve this, your Highness.” Charles insisted. “I’m a doctor- I couldn’t-“

“Serve your people?” Emma smiled coolly. “I can think of no-one better to replace me, Charles. But as I said, I shall endorse you only. A parliament will decide, in the end.”

“I see.” Erik stepped forward. “And what happens now, Emma?”

“Now?” Emma looked to the soldiers; to Charles and Moira and Erik, to Robert and her rebels. “Now we rebuild. Tomorrow, the Doctor will join myself with the tanner, the blacksmith, and other tradesmen. They will form a parliament and we will fix the trade agreements and issues from there. My army will secure the castle and city once more. Does anyone find fault in my suggestions?”

“No, your majesty.”

“Then in that case, I believe food and rest is required for us all. Thank you, my subjects.” And then, the Queen smiled widely. Her eyes sparkled with tears and the light filtered through dust, cascading through the windows of the hall. The fuzziness cleared, and Charles thought that his knees might finally give way beneath him, after weeks of threatening to. The rebels involved in the talks were brushing past him, making their way out of the hall. They had families to inform they were still alive- and food to acquire before sleep could come. Charles stood still, because it was that or collapse.

He turned to Erik, and he laughed, because it was that or cry.

“Charles.”

“Yes, Erik.”

“I believe you promised me a game of chess?” Erik said slowly, moving forward.

Charles let out a punctured laugh that might have been more of a tired gasp. In place of replying, he leaned forwards instead and rested his head against Erik’s chest. The cloth there was torn, bloody and sweat soaked, but beneath all that was Erik. A scent of mint and sharp copper and fresh linen. For a moment, Erik seemed to freeze against him. He thought perhaps Erik had been injured without letting on, and shifted, intending to retract and apologise profusely. Instead, he realised arms had wound around him and suddenly he was being held closely, and Erik’s breath was against his ear, breathing heavily.

It was improper and before the Queen no less, but Charles couldn’t bring himself to care. Erik who was so guarded, with a soldier’s posture and a gentleman’s distance, held him even tighter. Charles’ heart remained under a vice like grip, but this was not painful. This wasn’t the world crushing him, this was his heart bursting against its constraints. No matter what the future held, they had survived this at least. He had to go and check on Raven and ensure her leg was set to heal nicely. He had to help Moira mourn her family, and check up on the city and his patients he’d abandoned in his selfish pursuit of his sister. Then, he would find a chessboard and a secluded corner in a library and they would play chess.

* * *

Charles gazed from his balcony out to the city. The sun set illuminated the world with a pink sort of glow, and he thought he’d never seen anything quite as beautiful. Then his husband placed a hand on his arm, and he turned to the Man who would be King. Soon, in fact. Spring had come and gone, and now even summer was at its end. By the time winter was upon them again, the Queen would have stepped down. In the months since the rebellion, Charles had utilised his time effectively. Emma had revoked the laws around licenses to practice medicine, and provided him the resources he needed to train new, competent physicians. Moira had reopened the Apothecary and both the city and castle had been, slowly, recovering from Shaw. They had a long road to go, and Emma told them that the Kingdom wouldn’t truly settle until they took their place on the throne.

They had long since stopped trying to protest the role. The people wanted it, Emma certainly wanted it, and the Kingdom needed it. They had a few more months of time together as newly-weds before duty called.

“You look ethereal.”

“You flatter me, Lord Lehnsherr.” Charles smiled in reply, twisting his body against Erik’s.

“And you astound me, Doctor Lehnsherr.” Erik replied, mischief playing on his tone. “With your beauty, and humility, and your unending pure heart.”

“Pure.” He repeated, the words light and playful.

“Pure.” Erik agreed once more, lips at the nape of his neck. “Pure.” A hand travelled down his side, dragging at his hip lightly before continuing on its path. “Pure.”

Charles’ eyes widened, pleasure spiking from his groin and surging up through his blood like a burning wave. He looked up to his new husband, breath caught in his throat and heart fluttering incessantly.

“And precisely what do you intend to do about that, husband dear?”

Not a moment passed before hands were gripping at his thighs and lifting him up with a wicked grin. Charles laughed aloud as he was carried back into their bedroom, the balcony doors slamming closed behind them. He was dropped onto the bed; Erik clearly held no regard for the pristine condition of his wedding attire.

“You are divine, Charles. Positively divine.”

There was something positively delightful about seeing Erik like this. Erik, who had been like a beautiful statue when they first met. Who had been unattainable and dutiful and so very human, now stripping with speed and watching him with eyes, darkened by lust.

“I’m not completely innocent you know,” Charles murmured, hands roaming his husband’s back eagerly as Erik buried his head into his neck, sucking and kissing the skin there possessively. “I mean, I’m a doctor. I’ve seen things that might surprise even you.”

“I was the head of a guard of men and women who weren’t permitted to marry or have sex, Charles. I think my soldiers were more creative than the city people.” And Charles was going to argue, going to reply indignantly out of some ridiculous desire to ramble his way through his nerves. Instead, Erik hands began tugging away at his pants, and Charles found himself arching up to the touch desperately.

“Erik-“ The word slipped out without Charles’ permission, and he wasn’t entirely sure what it was for. Not a burst of need or pleasure, not yet, and not a request to stop or slow down. He just needed – something. He didn’t know. He was both overwhelmed and desperate for more, and not sure how to process it.

Erik looked up to him and cupped his face softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “My husband.” He smiled deftly. “Trust me to keep you safe, to love and cherish you?”

“Always.”

Then Erik’s hand snaked back down to his groin and the touch was enough to make Charles gasp and fight back a groan. His own hand was nothing compared to Erik, and the heat of their bodies pressed together. Nothing was enough or close enough or god; there was the friction he was seeking. His hips seemed to know exactly what it was he wanted, and it didn’t take long for Erik to comply, his steady exploration intensifying.

“I want you, Erik, I want-“ His words were lost to Erik’s mouth, capturing his lips messily, and Erik must have reached for the oil pot beside the bed mid-kiss, because no time seemed to pass between surfacing for air and a slick finger tracing down his skin.

What followed was an excess of vague utterances and whimpers, and Erik baring so many teeth that Charles thought in any other life he might have been scared. Instead, he felt only a deep desire for more.

“Always, Charles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End (I guess)


End file.
